Anne and Henry Make a Deal Part Two
by JacetheDreamer
Summary: After nearly losing Anne, Henry becomes a new man. He realises how much he loves Anne and is left wondering if he should take her as is Queen once more or not. With Jane in the way, every move is complicated. Henry's love for Anne transformed England before. Will England face yet another change? (PART TWO to Anne and Henry Make a Deal) Rated M for sexual content and language.
1. Trust in Me

_**~PART TWO~ **_

_**Henry is a new man. And a new man means a new King. And a new King means a new country.  
**_

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"_I love you, Anne. I love you more than the sun loves day and the moon loves night. I say this one last time from the truest depths of my reinforced heart. I __**will**__ love you forever and nothing will __**ever**__ come between that. I once said that truth was the definition of love. I have changed my mind. You, Anne. You are the definition of love"._

There is no real preparation for that of a traumatic event. There is no warning given to you so that you may be ready to face its brutal onslaught. There is no doctor that can heal the deeply-afflicted wounds of nearly losing a loved one. How long does it take to heal? What measures must you take to recover in the fastest amount of time so that you may still be alive both externally and internally? How do you face the love you nearly lost without feeling that sadness float across your heart? The moment those very words left Henry's mouth, he had declared his love for Anne indestructible, unchangeable, and timeless. He had been forced to realise in merciless detail how close he had truly come to losing her. When he had seen her on that bed, bloodied and pale, devoid of any signs of life, her lips colourless, her body vacant without the melody of a single precious heartbeat, he had grown immensely conscious of how much he loved her. How much he needed her. How afraid he had really been inside. Afraid of not having her in his life. Afraid that she had never been a part of life and that it was all an illusion. There would always be the fear that it was a silly dream.

Love was something that was supposed to make you stronger, not tear you apart. It was supposed to make you invincible. But love had only done its worst to Henry. It broke him down into tiny, impossible pieces. His love for Anne had made him weak to the point of near nonexistence. He was like the bear cub solely dependent on its mother. Love had also made him a new man. And it had been brought on by his desperation to keep Anne in his life. To keep her alive, living, breathing. To keep that seductive fire that burned so damn strongly inside of her burning brightly. To forever hear her voice filling his soul and that gentle smile of hers on her face. To see her dress twirl as she danced like some kind of goddess of the night across the room. Goodness, he needed her.

All the events that led up to this very day, this very moment, had been tumultuous, violent, and fueled by raging desperation and passion. Looking back at all he had done, it was almost a factor of disbelief. Did he truly lock her up in the Tower of London? Did he truly put those hateful charges against her? Did he truly separate her from Elizabeth and fill their daughter's head with lies? Did he truly play with Anne's heart and her mind like she was a game? A game that he had ended up losing anyway? What if she died? What if he had to carry on knowing that he would never forgive himself for everything he had done to her? That was the fear. He had loved her so much that if she died, he would have taken his life. He could never look at Elizabeth without seeing Anne. He could never care for his son without being reminded that through his life, Anne had lost hers.

It was hard enough knowing that he had lost his daughter. Her death would forever be a disturbing mystery. It would haunt him the same way all of the losses did. Only, this one was girl, not a boy. It was _girl_.

For many weeks, Henry had secretly mourned. And during that time, he still had to pretend like everything had been fine. It meant very little that he was still hurting. He needed to be strong. He needed to be strong for Elizabeth, for Nicholas, and especially for Anne.

The doctor regularly visited Anne to ensure that she recovered efficiently and promptly. He also had to make sure the rules that he set in place were heavily enforced, understanding how adamantly stubborn the Marquess would be. She had been confined to bed rest for most of her healing process and was only allowed to be up and about for a short period of time throughout the day. Usually, she would visit her son in his chambers or walk through the gardens to exercise her legs- with the assistance of Nan, of course. Intimate relations of any sort were restricted for months. Familiar with the King's reputation, the doctor had Anne's Ladies-in-Waiting stay with Anne at night to make sure there were no naughty doings that could complicate and even destroy the healing process. Regardless, Henry went to Anne's chambers at night because he wanted to be there with her. He wanted to be within the vicinity of her atmosphere, her aura, and her command. He would massage her to relax her, read to her, and sometimes even sing old songs that he had written for her in their youth. But most of the time, he would just hold her. And he was glad that he could even hold her in his arms.

Anne herself decided that even if she was bedridden, she would still take good care of her body, which was not recovering fast enough from that frightening birth. She had done well to use oils and herbs on her body during her pregnancy and afterwards. Doing so helped her skin to maintain its soft, creamy, and original form. Anne was sure that no other woman of England knew her secret as to how to keep their self during and after carrying children. And she had been devising ways of preservation since the day she declared to Henry that she would give him a son. The truth was, she wore tight corsets to avoid unwanted pregnancy fat, kept her body moisturized and used herbs that helped to even out most of the pregnancy blemishes, and most importantly, she sustained the utmost healthiest diet. Henry had always wondered how Anne's body was still smooth and perfect as if she had never carried in the first place. And when the time would come for them to resume their intimate relations, her body had still been inviting and tempting.

Anne could no longer nurse her son the way she wanted to because she was so weak and in recovery. As fate would have it, much to Anne's demise, little Nicholas Boleyn (Anne and Henry had yet to if Nicholas would assume the King's surname or not) had a wet nurse that fed him instead. To think that she could finally breastfeed her own child and this was the outcome.

Their son resembled the King of England more and more as the somewhat peaceful days drew on. All of the Ladies-in-Waiting and nurses crooned over the minuscule person. They marveled at his big ice-blue eyes, his angel-like skin, and his very dark brunette hair. He may have had Henry's handsome face and his soul-searching ice-blue eyes, but he still inherited Anne's brunette hair and her bright skin. "Handsome baby," they would say, "Handsome Nicholas". This always made Henry smile because his son couldn't utter a single word and he was already charming the ladies. Anne couldn't be more proud of the fact that she and Henry had yet again created another beautiful child. First Elizabeth, who was six –and-a-half years of age, and now little Nicholas, who would reach his first year of life in two months.

Lizzie loved her baby brother. The moment she was taken to see her mother out of panic, she had been introduced to her sibling. Anne and Henry agreed to never tell Elizabeth that Nicholas had primitively been born a twin. Unbeknownst to this, all of Elizabeth's fears that something had gone terribly wrong had been allayed when she was allowed to hold her baby brother in her arms.

"Nicky," she called him when she first held him.

Little did she know that her mother had come perilously close to death and that her father had nearly been driven to insanity because of it. Little did she know that her premonition- of Anne losing the baby on her wedding anniversary- had somehow been brought to a reality. And little did she know that when she sensed that her mother was in danger, she was correct.

Lady Sharp found love and married off to a rich English farmer, leaving Elizabeth with another governess. This one had been chosen by Anne- a duty Henry happily left to her. An old friend, Lady Madeline, had been commissioned to serve as Elizabeth's governess. Anne and Lady Madeline had been well-acquainted with each-other since childhood. Lady Madeline was plainly pretty. With her light brown hair and soft blue eyes, she quickly revealed that she was kind, talented, and gentle. And Elizabeth, who had grown very much accustomed to having new governesses, grew to enjoy her company very much.

There were still unanswered questions Elizabeth had as well. If Mama and Papa loved each other, why weren't they married? Wasn't her father still married to Jane? Wasn't Jane still the Queen of England? How come her mother wasn't the Queen instead? She did not know if she was supposed to tell her Ladies-in-Waiting back at Hatfield House about Nicholas or not so she made the silent decision not to. In fact, the entire household of the Marquess had been forced to take an oath of absolute silence yet again. The moment any word of a possible future Prince of England being born was sounded, Henry would have the entire household imprisoned. He would even imprison Nan and Lady Bridget- Anne's most trusted allies.

Henry did not want any potential danger being drawn to his son. Even though Anne was no longer queen, there were still many enemies in England that would love to bring harm to her. Protecting his family did not need to be an issue at the moment. Henry had enough going on back at the castle. He was still married to Jane. He still had a wife. He had almost forgotten until one of Anne's servants remarked that the King had been at the home for over a week. Henry had to leave this afternoon to return to Greenwich Palace so that he would not stir any suspicion from his wife. He knew all too well how much that would complicate things.

As he sat in a chair opposite Anne's bed, watching Elizabeth and Nicholas running around each other with yarn in their hands, he thought of all that he still needed to do. He left Greenwich Castle, leaving Charles in charge of things until his return. He had not even told his best friend of the recent happenings. Charles hadn't the slightest clue that he was still very involved with Anne and that he now had a son with her. He knew that Charles wouldn't approve- not that he needed his friend's consent. But it was Anne that would never give him consent. And he would respect that.

He still had a very important duty to fulfill. He needed a legitimate son to ascend to the throne. The first and second Act of Succession required the child to be born through royal blood and through means of marriage. Yes, Nicholas was a boy. But he was no prince of England. Henry buried his head in his hands, sighing deeply. Jane lost his boy right before his eyes and an entire group of the utmost famous and important legislators of England. He had done what he always did. He fled and neglected to come back. Anne was his refuge. Lizzie was his light, and Nicholas was his heart. How could anything son that Jane gave him measure up to the happiness that he had with Anne and their children? What if he never got the he son needed from her?

_Flee from such thoughts _Henry chided himself, finding his nerves settled by the sound of Anne's gentle laughs. He looked over to her and smiled warmly. She was watching Elizabeth and Nicholas running about each other, listening to their wild heart-warming laughs. Who would be the fool to trade this for anything else? What more could anyone offer him?

The bedroom door snapped open and one of Anne's Ladies-in-Waiting entered forth with a tray of foods in her hands.

"Lunch, Madam," she bowed before placing the food on Anne's lap and leaving.

"Just a moment," Henry raised a finger, ordering her to turn around.

"Yes, your Majesty?" she kept her eyes to the ground.

"Take my son and my daughter to the gardens so that I may have some privacy with the Marquess of Pembroke," Henry ordered.

The woman, Lady Francesca, nodded and ordered Elizabeth to the gardens while Nicholas' nurses took him to be with his sister.

The doors shut once all of Anne's nurses and Ladies-in-Waiting left the room, granting the King and his Marquess solitary privacy.

"And for what reason did you have our children and everyone else leave?" Anne asked, sitting up.

She reached out to break up the bread but Henry objected, taking the bread in his hands and breaking it up for her. This was something he had never done- certainly as the King of England.

"We must talk, Anne. We must discuss important matters regarding our positions," Henry dabbed the bread in honey.

"Our positions?" Anne asked.

"Our situations, rather. We have been put in a serious predicament that needs to be handled before my return to Greenwich," he lifted the bread to Anne's lips, "Open up," he playfully commanded.

"Must I be fed from your hands? Am I that incapable of handling myself? I may have nearly died, Henry, but I do believe my vitals are quite alright enough that I may be able to care for myself," Anne tried to pry the bread from his hands, but Henry moved his arm back, knowing she couldn't sit any further. Anne impishly pouted, "You make a mockery of my disposition."

He laughed, putting the bread to her lips again, but Anne kept them sealed tight. In brutal honesty, it was amusing.

"I make a mockery of your adamancy, my love," Henry said, popping the bread in her mouth before planting a soft kiss on her lips, "True to my heart, I miss these lips," he leaned back in to kiss her again but Anne pushed him back.

"You said that you are returning to Greenwich?" she looked at him with that familiar glimmer of ire in her eyes.

"My country needs me," Henry said, breaking up another slice and dabbing it in honey before putting it in Anne's mouth, stealing another kiss.

"No, your bloody wife needs you, do not try to fool me," Anne insisted, letting him sneak another kiss in though she was growing upset.

"No, Anne. We are not going to quarrel. I won't hear of it so you had best save your words and listen to what I have to say," Henry's tone was calm, "I must return to Greenwich to arrange some things for Nicholas."

"Henry, we agreed that Nicholas will not be involved in any-"

"Let me finish, "Henry interjected, "I should like to appoint my son the title of Duke of Somerset and of Nottingham. I would also like to arrange an annual funding of one thousand pounds and land in Ireland. He should be blessed with many riches. No son of mine will be without honorary titles."

"No son of yours…" Anne mumbled, shaking her head. She pushed the tray away, no longer having an appetite for food, "Henry must you say things like that? 'No son of yours'?"

"Is he not my son?" Henry saw no fault in acknowledging Nicholas as his child.

"Of course he is your son, Henry. But he does not need to boast such titles in order to be a prosperous son of the King," Anne argued, "He is my son as well and that is good enough for me."

"It is a matter of royal value, Anne, not of the value of my heart," Henry insisted, "Such titles will suit and benefit him in his future endeavors. He must have such titles of importance. I won't have him be known as "Nicholas Tudor, bastard son of the Marquess of Pembroke".

"A Tudor? So he is a Tudor son, then, Henry?" Anne sat up, her eyebrows furrowing, "How dare you call your 'Tudor' boy a bastard? He is a son of love, not of anything else. He will not be called a bastard. I refused to have it happen to Elizabeth and it will not happen to Nicholas."

"Of course I consider him to be a Tudor. He is my son, Anne. How could I say otherwise?"

"You still called him a bastard, Henry."

Henry hadn't even realised those words, "I did not mean it in the way I expressed it. Perhaps I was being too ruthless and too blunt."

Silence engulfed the room. Henry waited for the fire inside of Anne to cool before he climbed into the bed with her, wrapping his arms around her. She smelled of lavender and allurement. Henry loved that. His bottom lip dragged along the soft angelic skin on her neck, making Anne moan softly, She shut her eyes and grasped his hand. Henry continued to softy nip and her neck before nuzzling her brunette cascade with his nose.

He breathed,"Sweet Anne, why are you angry with me? I am doing no wrong," he stroked her hand, relaxing her nerves, "I am doing what I deem best for his future. Where is the harm in that?"

Anne shut her eyes and sighed. She knew that Henry wanted to express his pride by appointing Nicholas two Duke titles. There was nothing wrong with the nature of his intentions. It was her. She was frustrated because of the shortcomings she was forced to deal with due to her recovery. It was no better than being pregnant. She was still confined to her bed, she was still in pain, and she bloody well still could not engage in any sort of intimate relations after nine months of abstinence and two more to come. Her unfulfilled needs shed light on many more things. She could not hold her son in her arms for too long because it hurt, she could not breastfeed him because it rendered her weak, and could not even dance with her Lizzie, who was growing up so fast, it almost broke her heart. Nicholas could already run and say a few words here and there. And little Elizabeth was learning to play the piano, an instrument that she was well-acquainted with.

"Forgive me, your Majesty," Anne sighed into his arm, "My anger is not directed towards your doings. It is towards myself."

"Have patience, my love," Henry said, "The time will come. Just be patient and heal. I came fairly close to losing you and I want you to heal as much as you can and as fast as you can. I wish I could spend the rest of the week here, but I must continue my role as King of England. I must go back to Greenwich to remind my subjects of my presence. I am sure they are giving Charles hell for the lack of my presence and no possible explanation for it. I must also keep Jane under my control. She will wonder where I have been. She mustn't become a problem," Henry growled.

"Why? Are you afraid you might do something dangerous?" Anne humourously stated.

"I have already done something very dangerous, Anne," Henry's tone was grew very serious.

Anne's jaw tightened. She moved his arm from around her and sat up again. Facing him, she demanded to know what he meant by saying those words.

"What do you mean you have already done something dangerous, Henry? What have you done?" She was concerned.

"You must promise me something, Anne," Henry overlooked her inquiry, "You must promise me that you will trust me in everything that I do."

"**_Tell me_**," Anne demanded, ignoring his plea the way he did hers.

"Just trust me, Anne."

"When do you leave for Greenwich Palace?"

"This afternoon."

"Won't you tell me before you go?"

"Not yet, Anne," Henry took her face in his hands and kissed her lips, "Be patient," he whispered.

END OF CHAPTER ONE

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**AUTHOR'S NOTE: I ACTUALLY DID IT! :D For those of you who don't know, this is Part Two to the fanfiction Anne and Henry Make a Deal. You can go to my page and read the fanfiction to refresh your memory if you need to. Otherwise, you won't understand this one until you've read the first one. Please review! I am so very uncomfortable with this fanfic and I may even take it down (~yikes~) Just tell me if I should continue or not. Thank you. **

**-Jace**


	2. There Are Rumours

_Dearest Majesty,_

_You have been most kind in your recent letters. The jewelry you sent me is exquisite. I anticipate donning them in the future. Our daughter Elizabeth has taken to a new fondness of painting and writing. Her writings are exceptionally admirable for her age. The greatest of scholars have commended her on her work. She exhibits a strong facility in dance and art. It is like the great Master Holbein has taught her to paint. Our son is faring properly. He is growing up so fast and he is so healthy. Our son is the precise image of you, your Majesty. Every time I gaze upon him, I see you. It fills me with happiness and sadness. I truly miss you, Majesty. I long for your presence. Two months have passed and I have not seen your face or heard your voice. I have entirely healed and the doctor has given his consent for us to do as we please, allowing him to retire from his duties of tending to me. One of my Ladies-in-Waiting has taken ill I fear for her health as she is only a girl of seventeen years. She is to be married off quite soon and an untimely death would be most unfortunate. I bid thee my greatest love, which I think to be immeasurable. I find myself in the confines of heartache in the wake of your absence. Please return to me soon._

_**Anne Boleyn**_

Henry shut his eyes and sighed with defeat. He pressed the parchment to his face and inhaled the rich, honey-like smell.

"Sweet Anne," he sighed, "Sweetest Anne."

The separation from her was driving him mad. Perhaps the greatest torment of all was that he could not tell Anne precisely why he had not been to see her yet. Once more, he was held captive at Greenwich Palace by his duty as King of England. This time, it wasn't all due to relations with Jane. There were greater things that needed to be tended to which meant that Henry could not return to the House of Pembroke until he handled the matters first. Matters that concerned his other daughter…

Jane was with child again. Henry knew that he would be sick with guilt when the time came for him to tell Anne what he had done. He hated having to feel that way. At least Jane was oblivious to such things. Never once did she question where Henry had disappeared off to. That was probably best for her, Henry presumed. He was glad that she was neither investigative nor invasive. Her natural reticence kept her tongue held and her lips shut. She kept any suspicions or opinions she might have to herself. It could have even been that she was far too naïve to have considered that her husband may have been between another woman's legs. A few insipidly innocuous fabrications kept the Queen exactly where Henry wanted her.

The court welcomed their King of England back into Greenwich Palace with the widest of open arms and the widest of smiles. The halls of Greenwich Palace were flourished with celebration and rejoice for the return of their King. For days, the palace was of a sprightful atmosphere. The celebrations seemed to be unending. Masques and parties were held. A joust had been set in place and arranged for the King to participate but Henry refused to for private fear of injury. He had not tried his hand at jousting for a long time and his athletic build was not as it used to be in his younger years. It was best that he retired from the tournaments until due time. The Duke of Suffolk sensed Henry's uneasiness and had even gone as far as arranging a special night for Henry with four young and very beautiful French girls from King Francis' court. He ended up with four angry women when he learned that the King ceased to accept their tempting invitation. Charles could not place the reason why Henry had done it and His Majesty desisted to tell him. Truth be told, Henry would not be adulterous with anyone other than Anne. There could be no other that could fill his needs and his satisfaction the way Anne could. Without her, his nights had grown very lonely.

When those dark hours came, so did his dark thoughts. Memories and dreams suffused his mind with lustful and distracting thoughts of his Anne. The dream he found himself having the most was that day in the forest. That day Wolsey had taken his life so cowardly. That day that changed everything. The excitement that filled his mind, the sensational delirium that he was under. She had asked him to do it. He remembered it so clearly.

Only moments after he informed her of Wolsey's death, she proposed that they ride to the woods together, without giving a definite reason. The look had been in her eyes. They were deep blue with desire and want. It was the look of consent that Henry thought he would forever dream of. He remembered riding on his horse to the woods, looking back at her constantly, thinking of all of the things he would do to her when they reached their destination. He remembered how he pushed her up against the tree as their lips touched and he told her the one thing he would never stop telling her.** I want you. **He could still feel Anne's hot breathing on his neck as he undressed her, ripping her clothes apart and sliding her further up the tree. How she had wrapped her legs around him like a slithering snake. He let her ride him first. They had been so quiet in the beginning, letting subtle moans and gasps escape their throats. They communicated through their occasional glances at each other. He had groped her everywhere, especially her breasts, soft and firm and perfect. He remembered flipping her over so that he was on top of her. Her screams and moans filling his ears as he thrust deep inside of her. And just as he was going to come...

He would wake up, angry and aroused. And the nights had still been torturous. Especially when Henry was to service his wife.

When the night's hours arrived, Jane sought permission to come to Henry's bed. By duty, he had to receive her.

For the first few nights that Henry allowed Jane into his chambers, he realised just how strong his disinterest in her had become. Their nights had been tantamount to festered bread and horribly cheap wine. They were stale and brutal to bear. Every night had become a dull and simple routine. Henry would always lie above her and thrust until it was over. Conceiving had no longer been a pleasurable joy. It was now a deed that needed to be completed at once. After all, she lost a child already. And he no longer loved her. _Did he ever love her? _

Henry sighed again, throwing his head back to deepen his contemplation. Why in the world did he think that marrying Jane would settle his woes? If anything, he had only made things worst for himself. His mistakes were so costly and he had not even realised it. Everything he ever wanted, he had it with Anne. And to think he would have thrown it all away so willingly and ruthlessly. What a fool. A damn fool. He was paying the price for his foolishness yet again. This time, it had not just been Anne. He now faced greater problems with enemies abroad. He slumped in his chair in an attempt to relax.

Like a cruel irony, the door thudded with a few urgent knocks. Henry's body immediately regained its proper composure.

"You may enter," he sounded his voice, somewhat annoyed that someone wanted to speak with him.

The door opened and the Duke of Suffolk entered forward, bowing down on one knee before the king.

"Your grace," Henry acknowledged his friend, smiling and motioning him to sit down. Charles took his place across from Henry at the wooden table near all of the books.

"Ah, your Majesty, I have been looking all about for you. I even began to fear you left Greenwich again without giving official notice. Why are you in the library?" he asked, realising where he had found his King. He then looked to Henry's hand, "And where did those letters that you have in your hand come from, Henry?" Charles pointed to the letters in Henry's hand.

"They are private," Henry shuffled in his chair before folding the letters and putting them away, "They are of no relations to current matters."

"Are they so private that you would not disclose them to me?" Charles raised an eyebrow.

Henry did not reply, indicating that Charles oughtn't to press further.

Charles squinted his eyes at his friend. Something about him was quite different. He had not really noticed until now.

"You have changed," Charles said, eliciting a great chuckle from Henry, "It is true, you certainly have changed. You are…calmer and less temperamental than usual. I can't place why, though. You have not taken a mistress since you returned, you no longer joust during tournaments, and though you are back at court, you lock yourself in your room or in strange places that you rarely visit- like the library." Charles shook his head as if Henry was being nonsensical.

"They say that it takes something inordinate to change a king," Henry nonchalantly replied.

"So they say," Charles raised an eyebrow.

"What news do you bring me?" Henry snapped his fingers, ordering a servant to bring him wine, "I hear that your lawyers have just come back from Spain after attempting a negotiation with the Spanish Emperor."

"Henry, you know very well that the Emperor considers you to be his enemy. The two of you have never truly upheld a bond of amity. Since Catherine's death, communication between England and Spain was mutually discontinued. However, the Emperor has been communicative recently."

"Perhaps audaciously communicative, irrespective to what he's done," Henry growled.

"He will not admit that he is hiding the Lady Mary in Spain. He spits on your allegations, claiming that she fled England not to the arms of Spain but to the arms of solace, away from your hateful wrath."

"He knows nothing!" Henry yelled, standing straight up, "How dare he remark such a thing! I could rip his country apart. I have the greatest army on this earth. I could have my men tear through Spain with no mercy at all. Spain would be squashed beneath my fist! If the Emperor desires a war, I will gladly give him what he wants. He will feel my hate like a bitter taste upon his tongue. He will pay for his arrogance with blood!" Veins bulged from his head as a piercing look of fury made Charles shudder, "It seems to me that the Emperor mistakes our lack of communication for friendship. Perhaps I should remind him of my power by destroying him." How dare anyone- especially the bloody Emperor, speak of him in such nature?

"M-majesty," Charles stammered, "Let us be wise and not start a war and shed unnecessary blood."

"He has the Lady Mary!" Henry roared, "She is still a property of the Royal Courts of England and she is further my daughter. My children are to be considered my ownership. He is hiding the Lady Mary, henceforth, he is hiding something that he has stolen from me. He must face the penalty given for those who are preposterous enough to dare steal from me."

"We do not even know if the Lady Mary is with the Emperor. She could be anywhere at the moment. According to my lawyers, the Emperor ceased to give any definite signs of being involved in the Lady Mary's disappearance. In fact, he has no identifiable use for her," Charles did his best to reason with Henry, even if it seemed hopeless.

"They were betrothed to one another long ago when Mary was a young girl. And he jilted her for another bitch. Perhaps he recognised his fault in that decision," Henry said.

"But the Lady Mary is of very meager affluence. Her dowry is but some few jewelries and collars passed down from Catherine," Charles explained, "She boasts the weak and unimportant title of a Lady. If the Emperor has the Lady Mary with him, it would only be of an act of revenge against Your Majesty."

"Do you consider him to be vindictive?" Henry asked, looking to the window at the bristling leaves on the tree, "Given how I treated Catherine?"

"No," Charles shook his head, "I consider him to be secretive and careful about what he says. I consider him to be private and unwilling to share his secrets, as your Majesty has been lately."

Henry's expression softened and he turned to the window. He knew that Charles had been referring to the letter.

"The letter is not of your concern," he said, his gaze focused on the trees.

"You really are not going to tell me?" Charles sighed. He then looked down, "Then at least tell me where you sent one hundred pounds worth of jewelry," he decided to approach him with another question, "They were not sent to the Queen, so they must have been sent to another woman in your favour."

"You dare interrogate me?" Henry slowly turned from the window to face Charles.

Charles cast his glance away from his glare, "Of course not, your Majesty," he tightened his jaw, "I am just searching for pure evidence to refute the rumours that have been circulating court since your return."

"Rumours? What rumours?" Henry asked.

I have been hearing such whispers that you have chosen a new Maitresse En Titre. That you are tiring of Jane and that you are seeking out a new wife," Charles plainly said.

"And do you believe them?" Henry asked calmly.

"Well...forgive me, your Majesty, but it seems to me that you have. You have been delivering and receiving letters from someone whom you refuse to disclose to me. You have been sending tremendously expensive jewelry to an undisclosed location, and you have been disappearing frequently and without notice, sometimes for months. It is almost like you are in love again. You are brooding, you are miserable. Because of her. You are not with her and it pains you. I can see it in your eyes, Henry. This woman means a great deal to you, whoever she is."

"You have no doubt taken an extensive amount of time into gathering substantial evidence to prove that I have found favour with another woman, yet you still have not been able to tell me WHERE MY FUCKING DAUGHTER IS! Perhaps you would do best if you stopped dabbling in my recent activities and set your attentions elsewhere."

"It is the Marquess of Pembroke, is it not?"

"I beg your pardon?" Henry yelled.

"There are rumours that you have found favour with the Marquess of Pembroke and that you have been to her home on numerous occasions. I have just caught news of the gossip."

Henry grabbed Charles by the neck, rage boiling in his body, "Where did you hear such talk!?" he demanded.

"At court today," Charles answered, "Some unimportant individuals were discussing the possibility that you have been especially attentive to the Marquess lately. I have decided to investigate these allegations to put an end to them. I trust your Majesty does not desire to be associated with the Marquess in any way," Charles explained, fighting against prying Henry's grip off of his neck, his heart racing hard and fast beneath his skin.

"Are you insulting the Marquess of Pembroke?" Henry asked in a low voice.

"You forget that the woman has caused a great deal of hurt to your Majesty."

"And I, her," Henry said, "...Suppose I have found favour with her? In what way does it concern you?"

"She is Anne Boleyn," Charles replied, feeling Henry's grip on his neck tighten, "She is a whore and a bitch. Just like her sister."

"Suppose I love her?" Henry tightened his grip, blinded by rage, "Suppose I am angered by the way you just insulted her?" He had grown enraged by his comment about Anne. Not his Anne. Not after all that he had faced with her, not after coming so close to losing her. No one would ever insult her. He had come too close to losing her...he loved her. An insult to Anne was an insult to him.

"Your Majesty," Charles hissed, "Release me. Henry, release me. I cannot breathe. Release me!"

He coughed as Henry released his grip from his neck.

"Henry... what was that?!"

"You will do yourself well by never speaking ill of the Marquess of Pembroke in my presence ever again!" Henry yelled, "And you will make damn sure that those rumours concerning the Marquess are refuted and abnegated before they leave this castle. You will leave court and you will not return until you tell me where my fucking daughter is, do you understand me?! I do not care if you have to swim to Spain yourself. You will bring back what is mine, are we clear?!"

"Yes, your Majesty."

"And Charles?"

"Yes, Majesty?"

"She is no whore."

END OF CHAPTER TWO

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**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Teehee I had fun writing this one. :D Also, I apologise for taking centuries to update. I've been quite busy lately. Busier than usual, to be quite honest. Review please! Next chapter coming sooner than this, I promise. **


	3. Be Mindful of Your Surroundings

After what seemed to be an eternity, Anne had finally found silent refuge in the sunroom, though the room had been unsuitable for the ironically morose weather. It was raining bitterly and viciously outside and the grey sky cast a glum mood on Anne. Nicholas had just been put to rest after running rambunctiously about with Elizabeth. The two had done well to exhaust one another with their activities. Elizabeth herself had never been so carelessly wild. She usually behaved the way a Princess of England was expected to but she abandoned her ladylike qualities the moment Nicholas could stand on his two feet. The two had been wild and inseparable ever since, often causing a great ruckus when they played with each other. But Anne did not mind it in the least. She recalled that she had been the exact same way with George when they were young children. How she had missed those days of innocence with her older brother. They were safe and happy as children were supposed to be. That was all before he revealed what a true manipulative monster he was, following the path of her even more monstrous father. The man who had only done her one good deed: introduce her to the King of England. And even that had come with disastrous events. And now Henry was yet again breaking Anne's trust.

His recent letter rendered Anne in strong bewilderment. She found herself going through the letter he had written over and over again until she grew frustrated. He was being unnervingly secretive again.

_**Sweet Anne**_, it read, _**I pleases me to know that you have found joy within both my gifts and your good health. It further thrills me to her of my children's well-being and new skills. Our separation disheartens me as well. I wake at morning with the anticipation of the sight of your loving gaze, yet I see none. At night, I find myself plagued with contempt for my wife and further sadness of your lacking presence. I try to dwell very little on it, but love is an inescapable force. You bind me and paralyse me, even when your physical presence is nonexistent. Current predicaments further burden me. Associations at Greenwich Palace have worsened. It seems that with every accomplishment carries grievance of regression. I am taking action to put a stop to these happenings. So long as I have your trust, I can think on a conscience of ease, though guilt chafes me from time to time. This will soon end and I will soon be in your loving arms. For lack of time, I must end this letter with one vital warning. Be most mindful of your surroundings. H.R.**_

It was scarcely coherent. During his last stay at the House of Pembroke, Henry spoke very little of any relations at Greenwich Palace. He only told her that he had to serve his role as the King of England and asked her to trust him in everything that he did. And that was well over two months ago.

He still had not revealed what was happening that was still forcing them to be apart. He failed to gain any trust from Anne. How was she to have faith in something she had no knowledge or understanding of? Henry had asked her to be patient before he left for Greenwich Palace but if anything, she was growing more and more concerned. What sort of business was the King conducting? There was no news of any new political or diplomatic troubles concerning the King of England. And whatever did he mean by guilt chafing him from time to time? What had he done that brought guilt upon him? Anne shook her head, not wanting to assume the worst. He loved her. He would not chose another mistress, would he? The only other woman he had been with would be Jane. She was his still wife and he still needed a legitimate heir. A legitimate _son_.

Anne scowled at the thought of him having relations with Jane. How could it not bother her? She loved the King and hated having to share him. Years ago, she would never have settled for anything less but all that changed. After every countless grieving moment of strife, she resolved to be his mistress. If that was the only way she could have him, then so be it. Henry seemed to prefer Anne as his mistress, anyway. It seemed that he enjoyed having secret relations with her, though it was no longer a secret inside of the House of Pembroke. Anne knew that she made him feel wild and passionate and young when they were together. She did keep him quite young, now that she thought about it. They made love for endless hours and would have great long talks afterwards. Sometimes they conversed about things of importance, and sometimes about utter nonsense. They were quite like foolish young lovers.

They were very foolish indeed. They made foolish decisions that could bring great danger to their lives and their loved ones. _Be most mindful of your surroundings,_ Henry had warned her. That was the most disquieting part of the letter. What provoked the King to give such a warning?

"Madame," Lady Bridget's gentle voice startled Anne.

"Lady Bridget!" Anne jolted, "You gave me a fright!"

The young girl lowered her head apologetically, "Forgive me, Madame. I meant no harm."

"Of course you did not," Anne clasped her chest, relaxing herself, "Do sit with me, it is quite lonely. I trust you have come to talk with me," Anne smiled warmly, beckoning her to sit on the chaise next to her.

"Yes, Madame," Lady Bridget took her place next to her, though she kept a bit of a distance from her. She was timid by nature, and further reverent of the Marquess of Pembroke. She traced the floral lacing on her bodice, contemplating if she should dare ask the Marquess about love. She gasped when she felt the Marquess' hand on her arm. There was an infectiously warm smile on her face.

"Tell me," Anne said, "It is fine. You may say anything you like."

"I fear you will take offense to what I wish to inquire. I should not want to offend you, Madame de la Marquis."

"I will understand, Lady Bridget," Anne promised, "You have my word. You may speak freely."

"Well..." Lady Bridget looked down, "It is a question concerning love. Love is defined by...a strong passion and affection for another person."

"Yes..." Anne nodded in agreement, understanding love in almost every way.

"One can love anyone, can they not? You can love someone even if it is wrong to?"

"Why do you ask?" Anne moved closer to Lady Bridget.

"Lord Hutchinson is quite nice," Lady Bridget spoke gently, "He is handsome and a fine gentleman. I understand that he is very affluent and popular amongst the churches. I am betrothed to him and I am most grateful that I have secured an advantageous marriage..." her voice trailed off, "But..."

"But what?" Anne asked, "You love another?"

Lady Bridget nodded shamefully, shutting her eyes to stop the tears from running down her face, "My father does not approve of the one that I love. His name is John Calverton. He is a meager merchant and very unknown amongst the royals, but he is rich at heart. Money has never mattered to me anyway. I love him with all my heart, Madame. If I am to marry Lord Hutchinson, he would have my maidenhead. I would be impure to John. He would never love me again. Why would he love a married woman? I would be a whore in his eyes. He would want nothing to do with me," Lady Bridget wiped her tears, "Must this be the sorrowful life that I am bound to? Madame, what do I do? What am I to say to John?"

Anne opened her mouth to speak, but then she shut her lips. She then realised why Lady Bridget wanted to discuss this with her. She was the only woman she knew in a kindred situation. Lady Bridget was clever. She wanted Anne to justify her love for another man, though she was to be married to a fine gentleman. That is why she feared offending Anne were to cast any judgement upon Lady Bridget for loving a man though she belonged to another, it would a have been hypocrisy. Lady Bridget knew that she was having intimate relations with the King of England. No, Anne was not offended. She was more impressed than offended. And compassionate towards her predicament.

"Lady Bridget, you are young, beautiful girl of seventeen years and your heart is at such a precious state in these young years. Us women tend to think more with our heart than with our head. As women, we are expected to meet certain standards in which we have to think with our heads. And that is always difficult. Our hearts are always going to be our downfall, our ruin. This is our fate by nature. Our eternal battle. Rarely do we have a choice between thinking with our minds and thinking with our hearts. We are passionate, conscious, jealous creatures. You can choose to spend your life with a poor merchant whom you love dearly. Or you can spend your life with a rich and powerful Lord whom you can learn to appreciate. Either way, you will have wondered if you should have chosen one over the other."

"Which one did you choose, Madame?" Lady Bridget asked.

"I chose my heart," Anne answered.

"So then it is the King of England that you love?"

"With every beat of my heart," Anne nodded, "I love him," she sighed, "It hurts to love him so."

"I am unsure of what you mean when you say that," Lady Bridget frowned, "How does it hurt to love the King of England?"

"You and I view the King of England as two entirely different people. The King and I have known each other for many years. Nearly a decade, so to speak. I know the King of England very intimately. We share a great deal of experience. Of love, of pain, but mostly love. When His Majesty is away, I cannot bear it. When he is near, I can hardly breathe. We are like...two flames that simply cannot be put out. No water how hard you try, we will burn ferociously."

"A love that lasts over a decade is a love unheard of," Lady Bridget said in awe, "A love we dream of."

"No it is not," Anne shook her head, her tone shifting from tender to harsh, "I suffered horrifying pain at the hands of His Majesty. Our marriage was a nightmare. I lost his love when I miscarried our sons. He treated me viciously. He blamed me, he hated me. His mistresses were many. Some had been my Ladies-in-Waiting. Including Jane Seymour. His Majesty was going to have me killed just so that he could marry her. He divorced me, banned me from his lands, and forbade contact between Elizabeth and I. After nearly a year, he came back to me. I have forgiven him for all of his wrongs, but I have not forgotten. I will _never_ forget who he once was. But I love His Majesty and who he has become. He is the man that brings me pain and happiness. I cannot let go of him, and that is torture. It is not a love one dreams of. It is a love unimaginable." It was an improbable love.

"Are you considered to be the King of England's equal? If a man loves a woman, surely she would be an equal in his eyes," Lady Bridget asked, a curious expression on her face.

Anne looked at Lady Bridget inquisitively. The entire subject of the matter had gone awry. This was about_ Lady Bridget's_ predicament, not Anne's.

"My Lady," Anne cast a glare at her, "I am afraid you have exceeded your boundaries. You should more careful with your words. You are questioning the King of England's authority."

Lady Bridget bit her bottom lip, her skin flushing with shame. She broke from Anne's threatening glare and quickly looked down, nervously breathing. She then stood up as she tensely fiddled with the lacing on her bodice. She had no intention of unsettling the Marquess but that was exactly what she had done. Those deep blue eyes were brimming with cold.

"Please forgive me, Madame de la Marquis. I did not intend to displease you. May I relieve you of my presence?"

"Have I answered your question?" Anne asked.

Lady Bridget nodded.

"You will surely think with your mind, then? You do understand what is best for you? Marry Lord Hutchinson. Love is dangerous for women in this realm. It is better to be wealthy than to be sorrowful. I understand you are in love with the merchant, but you are an ambitious young lady. And ambitious young ladies do not marry paupers. It is best for you to wed an affluent lord than to be a poor man's sustenance. Do you not agree?"

Again, Lady Bridget nodded, frenetically, this time.

"Then yes, you may leave."

She bowed gratefully and left the room in surprising speed.

_**Be most mindful of your surroundings,** _Henry had warned in the end of the letter. Of course. The rumours about their liaisons had begun. It now made sense. Henry was warning her to carefully invest her trust in those she deemed best. That was why he had not yet left Greenwich Palace. He was trying to refute the rumours. Somehow, someone revealed to the King that there had been gossip. Who could have possibly let it slip? Elizabeth certainly could not have been the one. She trusted no one. It could not have been Nan. Not after all they had been through would she have betrayed her true and greatest friend. Lady Bridget was far too much of a saint to commit any wrongs. _But Jane was a saint, too_, Anne remembered, _And she betrayed you for the crown_. Lady Bridget had been awfully inquisitive about her relationship with the King of England, which set her at a level of uneasiness. Anne would have to be more cautious from now on. The entire House of Pembroke had been sworn to secrecy by Henry himself. No one- albeit the long-dead Sir Thomas More- would dare act against the oath. For that was acting against the King of England. And that was treason.

END OF CHAPTER THREE

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**AUTHOR'S NOTE: I had hoped to upload this chapter sooner but I severely injured myself and I could not type for what seems to be an eternity. But it's finally up, so yay. Review please. I must know what everyone thinks about this chapter. Feel free to speculate what will happen in the future. ;)**

**-Jace**


	4. What Does Jane Seymour Know?

"Brother, how does one maintain a man's interest in them as a woman?" Jane asked, turning around. She looked to her brother who stood near the door, a letter in his hand.

It took him moments to answer her. He was heavily focused on that letter in his hand.

"Edward?" Jane called, fixing a stern expression on her face, "Brother!"

Edward glanced upwards, calmly folding the letter and placing it in his breast pocket within his shirt.

"Forgive me, sister. I was terribly distracted. What were you asking me?" he straightened his stature as if he were standing on attention.

"What were you reading?" Jane asked impatiently, pressing her hands at her sides. "You were reading a letter. From whom?"

"It is an insignificant matter, Jane. I trust your inquiry is far more important," Edward avoided answering his sister. She did not need to know what had been in the letter at the moment.

Jane sighed, "I wish to know how a woman is to sustain a man's interest in her."

"…By what means?"

"By _Intimate_ means, brother," Jane did not know how else to say it.

"I do not understand, sister. What are you truly asking me?"

"What new things might I try with His Majesty in order that he may not lose interest in my bed?" Jane blatantly asked, "As a woman, I was educated very scarcely about having relations with a man. How might I go about doing such things?"

Edward opened his mouth to speak but then he shut it. He realised what his sister was asking him.

He shifted uncomfortably. "Well, I am visibly not a woman so I can only speak for the males of the world and my advice would only be crude _and_ rather uncomfortable with the consideration that I am your brother. Do you not discuss these things with your Ladies-in-Waiting?"

Jane frowned, looking down, "I never thought to. After all, my Ladies-in-Waiting are pure delicacies. They would have no such knowledge of any form of intimate relations."

"Sister? Do you really believe…" the pure naivety that his queen and sister possessed made his jaw drop. She honestly did believe that her Ladies-in-Waiting were virgins. Did she not know how likely it was that the very King of England had thorough relations with possibly every single one of them? Edward found himself questioning how well Jane actually knew the King. Perhaps her naivety was for the best, particularly because she was carrying again. He could not imagine how she would react if he told her these things. Ignorance is bliss, and that was a fact. Bless her poor ignorant soul. Edward sat down in the chair near the mirror where his sister stood. He tendered his voice, "Sister why do you ask this? What troubles you?"

She did not speak. She shut her eyes and covered her face with her hands. She sighed repeatedly, failing to utter a coherent word.

"Sister, tell me," Edward stood up and grasped Jane's hands, "What is troubling you? Let me have a look at you."

The look on her face was painful to bear.

"It is the King, Edward. He no longer comes to my bed," Jane confessed, her round eyes filled with tears.

"I do not understand what you mean by that," Edward shook his head, embracing his sister, "Did the King of England not recently conceive with you?"

"Yes, of course he did, brother, but it has been months since I became with-child," Jane insisted, "And he has not come to my chambers since. Not once, brother. Earlier when he had come back from his trip, which he ceased to inform me of, the King immediately came to my bed. But after I became with-child he does not visit me anymore. I hardly see him at all. I only see him at court, at church, and at dinner. And sometimes His Majesty does not come to dinner. He chooses to dine alone and elsewhere."

"You mustn't worry, sister. The King of England's actions are not against you, I promise."

"Yes, but Edward, I no longer know him. He is not the man I once knew. He is distant and cold."

"Do not worry, sister," Edward interjected, reaching out to affectionately rub her swollen tummy, "The King is only being careful around you. He cares for your health. He does not wish to bring harm to the babe. You mistake his sensitivity for contempt. He wants to be very careful, especially after the miscarriage."

"For which he hates me!" Jane cried.

"He does not hate you, sister."

"Indeed he does! His Majesty harbours a great deal of contempt towards me and I know it to be because of the miscarriage. He does not utter a single word of the loss of our son but I see the anger in his eyes. He does not even try to hide it. His glares are like a ferociously burning fire. And there is something else, Edward. There is something else in his eyes. Something unfamiliar."

"Jane, you are being absurd," Edward shook his head, "Be sensible, sister."

"I _am_ being sensible, Edward!" Jane shouted angrily, "As all queens should be. My husband is not the man he once was and I fear that there is not much time before I lose his love. He does not visit my bedchambers the way he used to. Even his affection is not as it used to be. But if there is one thing I am certain of, it is that he is becoming disinterested in my bed. This could possibly be because of my dimmed looks…"

The Queen of England turned around and stared at back at the ragged expression on her face as she stood before the tall mirror in her bedchambers.

She _had_ aged some.

It appeared that some of her vibrancy had withered away. She looked worn out like a threadbare chair. Perhaps it was because of her pregnancy and the pregnancy before. Her features had been dulled and she had only just begun to notice. Jane brought her hand to her swollen stomach, trying her honest best to smile but her face seemed to prefer grimace to grin. How could she have joy when her heart was plagued with desperation?

Since the miscarriage, Henry _had_ become someone entirely different. Because he ceased to speak of the subject, there was much unresolved hurt. His disappearances bore no room for reconciliation, just pain and anger. But he still loved her, right? Perhaps he loved her no longer. Jane_ knew_ that he held her accountable for his pain.

You could see it in his every action. He continued to abandon her. He left the palace promptly after she lost the baby and did not return until many months later. When he did return, Jane thought that she could finally be at ease. The precise opposite had happened. The King of England's presence only furthered her apprehension. Though he was back, he was not really there. It was as if his soul were somewhere else. He no longer looked upon her adoringly or touched her tenderly the way he used to. He no longer spoke to her with depth or kissed her with passion the way she remembered. Their love-making grew very simple and monotonous and immediately afterwards, Henry fled from her chambers and went elsewhere, leaving her to sleep alone. She brooded over these things many times.

And she brutally wondered what could have brought about such stalemate? Could it have been because she had lost her appealing features? She felt especially lacking in pulchritude now that she was with-child again. But that should not have served as a hindrance in Henry indulging his self in her offers.

Jane recalled the memories of her previous service as Lady-in-Waiting to the whore Boleyn, when the witch had been Queen of England. She had observed how Boleyn played on Henry's lust. He went to her bed almost every night and she became with-child very easily. _Even_ after the miscarriages, Henry still returned to her bed. Jane remembered how could sometimes hear their activities at night when she rested in the room next to Boleyn's. The other Ladies-in-Waiting giggled at every gasp and moan that sounded from that room but Jane only cringed with discomfort. It was enough proof that Henry was willing to have relations with her despite her pregnancy. If Henry had done it with Anne, what stopped him from doing it with _her_? As far as she recalled, up until the end of their marriage, Henry never really lost interest in the whore's bed until he set his eyes on Jane. After that, everything had changed. That was when she realised something.

"Brother…" the expression on Jane's face changed as she slowly turned around to face Edward, "…do you believe in the possibility that His Majesty has found solace in the arms of adultery?"

"Now Jane, be reasonable-"

"It _is_ a reasonable conjecture, Edward! Why else would he act this way towards me? Do not forget that I once served as Lady-in-Waiting to that slattern. I remember how loyal Henry was to her until I became his mistress. I watched her downfall, brother! He is treating me the way he treated_ her_! Henry has found a mistress, I know it. That is why he is distant. He is occupied with her, whoever she is!"

"Jane, my sister, my Queen, our sovereignty," Edward held on to Jane's arms, staring into her eyes, "Listen to me. You should not make such assumptions concerning the King of England. You have no way of confirming such deeds from your loving husband, our King," He knew better, though. He had heard the rumours. It was a shock that Jane had not heard them yet, not even from the King himself. The gossip was everywhere in Greenwich Palace and after having spoken personally with Henry, he knew that the King caught news of the talk as well. It was highly feasible that the King had chosen a new Maitresse En Titre. And it was further dangerously feasible that this Maitresse En Titre was the Marquess of Pembroke. If this was in fact true, then not only was Jane's position as Queen of England in danger, as was his entire family's position. The Marquess of Pembroke knew how to efficiently play the King. And if she did in fact find favour with the King, then all was doomed.

In spite of this, Edward knew that if he told Jane about the rumours, it would send her into bouts of stress. Jane needed to be absolutely healthy now that she was carrying. She already lost Henry's son. If she lost another child, annihilation would be the ultimate cost. At the moment, Jane delivering a living son was the utmost priority.

"You think it, too, brother," Jane's voice pulled him from his thoughts, "I see it in your eyes. You are hiding something. Won't you tell me?"

Edward sighed, shaking his head in protest. He had to tell her something. If he said nothing, she would only press further. He would have to choose his words wisely.

"…Your suspicions are that the King of England has a mistress."

"Yes," Jane nodded.

"Then I will alert father. I will summon him and John back to court with the King's permission and we will investigate this matter. How should that please you?"

"It would please me very much, Edward," Jane smiled widely, "But I should inquire how you will do this."

"With your permission, I would have complete control over an investigation based upon your theories. In secret, it would be measured how often the King leaves the palace and how long he stays away. Should the visits gradually perpetuate for longer periods of time, then you will have true reason to worry. Again, with your permission, we would keep the King's visits under close surveillance through daring spies paid by a handsome sum of money."

"_Brother_," Jane shook her head, "I…I…I cannot. I cannot allow it, certainly not without the King's consent. Would that not be treason?"

"Not if the King has no knowledge of it," Edward insisted in a convincing tone that managed to sway Jane's feelings in his favour, "You must do what is necessary, Jane. Do what is wise. As England's true and rightful Queen, do what you deem best."

Jane looked down, shutting her eyes. She knew it to be foolish, but she could not help but think back to that Christmas day when Henry had done the unthinkable and invited that bloody _Anne Boleyn_, her greatest adversary, to court. She could not erase the image of Henry's proud grin from her mind as he reconciled Elizabeth and Boleyn together. She could still feel that rage and jealousy she had when Henry went on to remark that Anne looked breathtakingly beautiful and proceeded to audaciously dance extensively and suspiciously intimately across the room with her. It was the first time she felt burning envy as she had seen another woman with her husband. For the entire night, Henry kept his eyes on Anne, even when he sat next to her. That same night, he did not go to her bedchambers. He disappeared and gave no information as to his whereabouts.

He did not even ask how she would feel about inviting the Marquess of Pembroke to court for Christmas. He never discussed reconciling the Princess Elizabeth with Anne. The least he could have done was give notice and he chose not to. Just like he chose not to address the miscarriage with her and just like he chose not to alert her when he was leaving the palace for such great durations of time. He chose to have secrets, why couldn't _she_ have secrets?

"Yes…yes, I shall grant you full control of an investigation. Do what is necessary in order to find out what the King has been occupied with, and set me at ease during these weary days. I cannot settle my nerves until I know that…that I am safe in the King's heart."

Edward gave a satisfactory grin and gratefully kissed his sister's hand several times.

"I shall summon father and brother most promptly and we will get to the root of this. In the meantime sister, rest as much as you can. You have a son to give to the King of England. And might I suggest that you to try to pry into his recent affairs," Edward added, "Perhaps the King will be more open with you if you show an interest. Have you noticed that the King has been rather irate and in distress?"

"Yes, but he declines to tell me why."

"The King is plagued with relations concerning his daughter," Edward said.

"Oh yes, I would expect him to be," Jane nodded, "The Princess Elizabeth has been very distant as well. I had asked many times that she be summoned back to court but Henry tells me that the Princess has a strong preference for Hatfield House. Suddenly, she does not desire to be at court. It is most unusual because the Princess always appears to be ecstatic when she is here at court."

"I did notice that the King has not been to see his daughter in these recent months," Edward nodded in agreement, "But I do not speak of the Princess Elizabeth. I speak of the Lady Mary."

"Oh!" Jane suddenly jumped up, "The Lady Mary! Of course, he is troubled by the Lady Mary. I have attempted contact with the Lady Mary on many occasions, brother," Jane told him, almost forgetting about it entirely.

"You have attempted contact with the Lady Mary?!" Edward asked in disbelief, "Do you not know of any recent happenings?! Why have you not said anything about this?"

"Well I understand that the Lady Mary and her father have a terribly strained relationship. I thought that it would only be kind of me if I would attempt to reconcile the Lady Mary with her father. After all, if Henry could stomach the presence of Anne Boleyn, then he could certainly tolerate the presence of his daughter."

"**Anne Boleyn** and the Lady Mary are two entirely different people, Jane!" Edward bellowed, making his sister jump, "You certainly have lost your wits if you think their relationships with the King to be the same. Do you not know that the King is threatening a war with Spain because he believes the Lady Mary to be in hiding within the Emperor's homes? Have you any idea that the Lady Mary has fled England?"

"No brother!" Jane took a step back, startled by his sudden mood change. She grasped her stomach in alarm, breathing heavily.

Sensing that he had frightened her, Edward reached out to stroke her arms, apologetically sighing.

"…Have you received any word from the Lady Mary?"

"Is that what was in the letter?" Jane asked, casting his question to the side, "That the Lady Mary had fled England?"

Edward nodded.

"Then yes, I have word from the Lady Mary. But she does not give me her whereabouts," Jane revealed, somewhat shaking from her brother's sudden rage, "I presented my proposition of reconciliation, which the Lady Mary refused, in our initial letters."

"Jane…" Edward chuckled in disbelief, "Why did you not say anything?" he shook his head, "Never mind, just continue."

"Our recent letters were much briefer than the first few. The Lady Mary confessed to feeling hurt and betrayed by her father's favouritism to Princess Elizabeth, which she proceeded to call a bastard. She also spoke reverently of her mother, the late Princess Dowager of Wales. Never once did she speak of abandoning England, particularly without the King's permission. But the Lady Mary does not even consider herself to be the King's daughter for lack of his affection has made her cold towards him."

"So you are the last person to hear from the Lady Mary?" Edward asked.

"I suppose so."

"Then you will do best to avoid the King of England entirely. Conversation must be idle, and you will rest as much as you can until father and brother are back, alright?"

"Yes," Jane nodded.

What had she done? Rather, what was she doing?

END OF CHAPTER FOUR

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**AUTHOR'S NOTE: I AM SO SO SO SO SO SO SORRY FOR THIS HORRIBLY LONG UPDATE but I have been horribly depressed lately, and when I finally got a bloody grip, I was able to focus on the fanfiction. I know we all hate Jane, but she is a necessary character in this story. Please review. Next chapter sooner, I hope. :) **


	5. You Make Me Want to Die

After several days of personal debate, Anne made the decision to resent Henry. She wanted him to feel every single bit of her anger towards him. He still did not turn up and if he thought it to be a game, then he would feel her wrath. She chose not to return his last letter that he wrote to her. She hoped that leaving his letter unanswered would somehow lure him back to the House of Pembroke. Anne remembered that in the past, her refusal-to-reply tactic had been successful every time she chose to apply it. Whenever Henry had done something to upset her in such a way that it provoked her to leave Court, he would write countless letters to Anne, humbling himself and desperately pleading her to return to him. She never did write him back but sooner than later, he would show up alone and unannounced at her home with a well thought out apology that was convincing enough for her to forgive him.

Unexpectedly, Henry did not write any more letters since the last one. Not a single letter arrived in the mail besides idle ones concerning family members of the workers of the House of Pembroke or payments and such.

Days blossomed into weeks in which Anne began to taste the bitter flavour of misery and loneliness. She hated that it was brought on through Henry's absence.. She should have been angry at Henry but instead she found herself having bouts of desolation and desperation. Unexpectedly, her hatred somehow grew into heartache. She loved him madly and she missed his comforting presence. In these recent days, she found herself troubled especially at night when her nightmares haunted her and the man that held her until she found peace had been elsewhere. She needed him most during this time and he was not there.

This brought her back to the dark times when she and Henry were married when he began to leave the palace for days, leaving her to lament over him and his infidelities.

This was not like Henry, or rather, it was not like the _new_ Henry. He would never abandon her like this unless something had been troubling him past his own feelings and obligations towards his family. Only, Nicholas was his illegitimate son and Anne was no longer his wife, but Henry had been sure to make it a veritable fact that they were his family even if it was not lawful.

She found herself conflicted with everything around her. From Henry proclaiming that he had done something dangerous just before he had gone off, to his letter in which he berated her to be vigilant and cautious of her surroundings. Suddenly, everyone in the House of Pembroke had to be treated as her enemy with Nanette as the only exception. Anne trusted her judgment that Nan had been far too kind to have given up a friendship for the sake of appealing gossip. She allowed only Nan to be in her chambers during her private periods to discuss her feelings about the gossip.

Nan was reluctant to tell her friend that Lady Prescott was the most prominent candidate for the prime gossip of the home. She was reluctant to share that there had been talk amongst the servants of the House of Pembroke long before the King had made his relationship with her known. It could have also been Lady Bridget, whom Nan had come to identify as Anne's second-closest ally. The girl was young but also clever and as far as Nan gathered, she had been awfully keen to become the Marquess' friend. It could have been anyone- the people who changed the Marquess' sheets every morning, the cooks who prepared her meals, it could have been the midwives who delivered the King's illegitimate children or even Doctor Lurman. It could have been any passersby who had seen His Majesty's royal carriage stationed outside of the House of Pembroke for such periods of time. It could have been the man who delivered the hefty exchange of letters between Anne and the King. It could have been the officials who witnessed the King dancing intimately with the Marquess last Christmas. The possibilities were too great to put on one person and Nan had to keep this in mind every time she listened to Anne address her worries. So instead of speaking, she kept her mouth shut and simply nodded at every word she spoke.

Elizabeth was to visit the House of Pembroke for the first time in some months. Usually, the Princess' visits are more frequent but recently, Henry decreed that she spend more time at Hatfield House to better practise and hone her skills and crafts. Of course, he presented no real reason for the hasty decree but Anne was confident that it was rumour-related. And if he was willing to lessen visitations with Elizabeth, then the situation was graver than she anticipated. This served as no alleviation to her worries and suffering. But Elizabeth's return would change that, Anne prayed.

"Mama!" she shrieked, running ahead of her Ladies-in-Waiting, who hopelessly begged her to walk. Defiant as ever, Elizabeth met her mother with a bone-crushing embrace. She kissed Anne's nose, proclaiming, "I have missed you, Mama!"

Anne drew her arms around her daughter, laughing heartily, "I trust you have, judging by your fierce embrace. I have missed you, too, my daughter," she returned her daughter's loving gesture by kissing her on the nose as well, "Now let me have a good look at you, let me see how much my beautiful princess has grown."

Elizabeth eagerly stepped back and twirled in a perfect circle, laughing excitedly as she did so, "How much have I grown, Mama?"

"Well you have certainly grown since I last saw you, Lizzie. Your hair is longer and redder and if I am not mistaken, you are missing another tooth," Anne could not hide that she found her daughter's missing teeth terribly adorable.

"Oh how my whole mouth aches, Mama," Elizabeth groaned, taking her mother's hand as they began to enter the gardens of the estate, "Lady Madeline says that pain is an important part of growing, but I disagree."

"You should listen to Lady Madeline, Lizzie. She is right, you know," Anne said, "Pain is a part of life, sweetheart. You will learn that quite soon."

But Elizabeth had already known that.

"Can I see Nicholas?" she asked, "I miss my brother very much. I have not seen him for a long time!"

"Your brother is resting," Anne replied, "He wore himself out and finally fell asleep a while ago, but do not despair," Anne added when she saw Lizzie pout with disappointment, "He will rise soon. You have an entire week to spend with him," those words replaced her pout with a wide grin. It touched Anne's heart how much Elizabeth loved Nicholas. She was thankful that there was no such rivalry between the two, as she once read in a book that sibling rivalry was common as this age. Anne made sure that Elizabeth understood that she would never have to compete with Nicholas for her affection and that she still loved her the same way she had loved her the day she came from her womb. The bond that Nicholas and Elizabeth shared always brought Anne back to the days of her childhood and innocence with George. Days that had been ruptured by her abusive father. She wondered sometimes where her brother was, who he had become, and if he had actually settled down and started a family. Or perhaps her father had gotten through to him and he was off manipulating another woman. Perhaps like her father, George had become a monster.

"Are you alright, Mama?" Elizabeth's curious voice brought her back to the real world, "Mama?" Elizabeth squeezed her hand gently, "All you alright?"

"Yes," Anne nodded, smiling down at her, "I am fine, sweetheart."

"You looked sad," Elizabeth insisted, "Like you were about to cry."

"I was not about to cry, Elizabeth. I am fine."

Only Elizabeth had seen her mother cry before. When she was the Queen of England, she would see her mother cry sometimes. It bothered her and it made her feel sad sometimes that she cried about it only when she was alone in her room. But that was when she was younger. Still, Elizabeth came to understand how much it hurt her when her mother cried. She knew that look. She knew that sometimes when people say that they are "fine" they don't mean it. If only people were more honest, maybe it wouldn't hurt as much.

"Mama," Elizabeth said softly, "It is okay if you are sad. I do not think that that there is anything wrong with being sad."

Hearing those words broke Anne's heart, but she tried her best not to let it show. Somehow her six-year-old dashingly brilliant daughter was able to read her mind. It made her wonder just how much pain her daughter possessed.

"Oh sweetheart, you are growing up so fast," Anne acknowledged her words, "Not too fast, I hope."

"Well my birthday is in a few months!" Elizabeth exclaimed, "I am so excited to see what gifts Papa will give me. And I miss him, too."

"What do you mean?" Anne frowned, sitting down on the bench near the pond. Her daughter sat next to her, "Has your father not been to see you?"

"Not at all," Elizabeth shook her head, "He promised to visit but he did not keep his promise. I do not like when he does that, but Lady Madeline says that I must look at Papa as the King of England first and as my father second. She says that the King's kingdom is more important than his family. I know you said that I should listen to her, but how can Papa love anything more than us?"

"Oh Elizabeth, there are things too great for you to comprehend at such a young age," Anne sighed.

"But I will be seven years old soon!" Elizabeth protested.

"In time, you will understand that the world works much differently than you thought."

"Well what does that mean?" Elizabeth asked.

"It means," Anne began to tickle her daughter, "That many of your questions won't have answers until many years to come. Now, come along, let us discuss your birthday."

They got back up and began to walk around the pond with the little fish and frogs in it. Elizabeth rambled on and on about how she wanted her party to have all sorts of cakes and foods. She went on about fireworks and horses and dances and music. She discussed her birthday dress and how the tailor was already preparing it. Apparently, Henry promised her a grand pink dress with large pearls sewn into it with gold embroidery on the bodice. It sounded remarkable. It seemed that Elizabeth had the preconceived notion that Anne would be there to celebrate her birthday because she repetitively mentioned how she would dance with her mother all day.

She could not bring herself to tell her daughter that even though she had been in her life, there were still privileges that were not given to her. She was not the Queen of England and with the rumours coming about, it was too precarious for her to be near the King of England publicly. It pained her to know that for the third time, she would not be allowed to attend her daughter's birthday party. Freedom was not really freedom if it did not come at a price

"Did you know that Nicholas' birthday is only a few months ahead of yours?" Anne asked her daughter in an effort to whisk away her cold thoughts.

"Really?"

"Yes, it is true. If I were still Queen, it would be a very frantic few months trying to plan two birthdays that are so close to each other. The two of you would have your birthdays on the same day if the duty were left to me."

"Oh, Mama, that would be fun. Perhaps Nicholas is awake now? Could we go back to see him?" Elizabeth began to jump up and down eagerly.

After they completed their customary walk through the gardens, they began to make their way back inside of the house to find that Nicholas had been well-awake. His nurses were already fretting over him.

When Nicholas looked to Elizabeth, he recognised his sister and the two were soon playing with each other.

"How did he sleep?" Anne asked one of the nurses, a gentle blonde woman named Clara, "Has his sleep pattern changed?"

"Oh yes, Madam, he slept better today than he did yesterday. There was no sudden activity, a few twitches here and there, but nothing that should worry you, Madam."

"Good," Anne nodded, smiling pleasantly at her children playing quietly in the corner. For weeks, Nicholas' sleeping patterns had been disturbing and upsetting. His sleep would be interrupted by coughing fits and fevers but mostly, he would jump out of his sleep in a startling panic and cry until he was too sick to cry anymore and he would fall back to sleep after hours of wailing. His nurses consistently suggested that Nicholas be monitored by a doctor and after weeks of denying that absolutely nothing was wrong with her son, Anne finally allowed Nicholas to be tended to by a doctor. He gave Nicholas a strange herbal mixture that smelled putrid but gave promising results. Since he began to take the medicine, his sleep irregularities had become less and less of an issue.

"Thank you, Clara. Do get some fresh air, the weather is wonderful today," Anne said, "I will use this time to get some rest, as I am exhausted from my long walk with the Princess Elizabeth."

_My princess and my prince_, Anne thought as she gave one last glance at towards Nicholas and Lizzie before ascending up the grand staircase to her bedchambers. Nan helped her change into her sleepwear upon request.

As Anne sat in front of her mirror, staring hard at her reflection, she found herself drifting off to the last thing Henry told her before his departure. _Trust me_, he kept saying. What in the bloody hell did he mean? She was rational woman. Did he expect her to have blind faith?

"Nanette," Anne spoke softly, "Do you suppose that Henry-"

"Not even for a moment, Anne," Nan answered her question before she could finish it, "Not after all that he has done, not after all that he has seen you through. I had never seen His Majesty in such a weak condition until he thought you to be dead. I have lived long enough to see men in love, but His Majesty holds something beyond love for you. I cannot put a name to it, though."

Anne looked down, unsure of why or how the thought even passed her mind. They had been apart for too long, perhaps.

"Lady Bridget gave a similar comment on our relationship not long ago," she admitted, "She told me that His Majesty and I have a love unheard of. I am not sure what that is meant to imply, but I trust that is a good thing."

"Oh it is, Anne," Nan agreed, "It is something marvelous. It is something too precious to let go of and that is why I do not believe not even for a moment that His Majesty has given up. He loves you like a madman and I believe that whatever is keeping him away for so long must be something viciously important, for fire and brimstone would not stop His Majesty from being with you."

"He asked me to trust him, Nan," Anne said.

"So trust him."

"I am angry with him," Anne continued, "I am angry with him because he brings me pain. Rather, his absence brings me pain."

"I recall from your late Queenship that you were consistently angry with His Majesty," she added with sprite laughter, "Though that anger was dissipated by the hours of the night."

"Well, that is the very thing, Nan, we are an impossible pair. The way I perceive it, we were not meant to be. We are fighting against our destiny and that is why Henry and I are fire and ice. We attract and contradict each other. There is no other way around it. I cannot stand how much I need him, how much of me he has, and how weak I am when he is not with me and that is why I despise him. True to heart, I am a strong woman, but I am a woman in love."

"'Despise' is a strong word, Madam," Nan said carefully.

"Love and hate are so similar, sometimes I cannot tell them apart," Anne confessed.

Nan brushed Anne's hair and the two did not speak any more afterwards. When she was done, her hair was dark and silky and shining like the waters in the sea at night. Nan set the brush on the table and left the room, leaving Anne to herself upon request.

Moments passed by and Anne found it impossible to rest the way she had hoped to because as soon as she just settled in bed, there was an urgent knock on the door that made Anne jump in fright.

"I asked to be left alone," Anne said aloud, her heart beating heavily with annoyance.

"It is urgent, Madame!"

That was Lady Bridget. And the shrillness in her voice was convincing enough for Anne to allow her in but she needed her rest. She simply sought peace and solitude whenever she needed to rest, something hectic had always interrupted her.

"Do come back after an hour when I will have had my rest," Anne decided to choose her nap over whatever "urgency" Lady Bridget presented.

The doorknob clicked and opened and just before Anne could protest, she found herself taken aback. Her draw dropped and she clasped her beating heart that now beat harder than ever as if it were trying to breach the barrier of skin.

"Oh my God..." she barely uttered.

"You would dare refuse your King?" Henry asked, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind him, "How rude."

END OF CHAPTER FIVE

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**AUTHOR'S NOTE: TEEEheeeeeeeeheeeeeeeeeeeee Henry is baaaa-aacckkkkkk. The next chapter will be ready in less than a week so prepare, lovelies. :DDDD REVIEW PLEASE **


	6. You Make Me Sick Because I Adore You So

Her first instinct was to slap him.

And so she did.

Anne wildly sprang out of bed, stomped towards Henry, and slapped him hard right across his cheek. His reaction satisfied her.

"Anne!" Henry shouted as his hand rushed to the burning skin on his cheek where she hit him. The look in her eyes were filled with pure hatred. She was angry with him.

"You deserved that," Anne raised her hand to slap him again.

He did not come here to fight.

Biting back his own anger, he grasped her hand as she tried to slap him a second time, pressing it behind her back. Anne grunted in a useless struggle to free herself. She wriggled her other arm to hit him with her other hand but Henry grabbed that one and held it behind her back as well. Henry tightened his grasp on her and chuckled into her ears. She was viciously enraged by his playful demeanour. As if he did not have an explanation to give to her.

"Is this how you are to receive your King?" he jested, letting his anger pass,"Have you no manners?"

His lips skimmed over the soft skin on her cheek as he pressed her back against his chest and held her close.

"No! Stop! I hate you!" Anne spat with agitation towards her weakness, "Let me go." She turned her face away from his lips.

"You love me," Henry said, clamping his teeth when she violently jabbed him in his stomach with her elbow and tried to escape his embrace but he soon had her behind his arms again, "You want me."

"Let me go," Anne demanded, resisting the urge to give in when his lips brushed against her neck, where he had always known she was most sensitive.

"I cannot let you go. I promised to never let you go."

"You always make promises, Henry," Anne growled, still grunting.

"But I have learned to keep the promises that I make, or have you forgotten?" Henry teased, as his tongue teased at her earlobe while he snuck one of his hands into the opening of her dress, "Have you forgotten what my touch feels like?" his voice was hoarse as he groped her breast.

_Damn him when he touches me so.  
_

Anne, resisting every bit of carnal urge pulsing through her veins, managed to free herself from his grasp, "No…you left and did not come back for months," she spun around so that she was facing him, "Do you expect me to just willingly part my legs for you after you left with no definite explanation?" her voice grew tense with anger, "Have you any idea how that makes me feel? Have you the slightest perception of what that does to my _heart_?"

Her voice broke when she said "heart" and Henry was most sure that tears would follow.

"….I am deeply sorry, Anne… I had no intention of breaking your heart, or even bringing you to tears," he expected her anger, but not her sadness. He hated the image of her sorrow.

"Why did you take so long?" Anne's voice was weak with heartache.

"It no longer matters," Henry took her face in his hands and kissed her lips deeply, "I am here," he whispered between the kiss, "I am not leaving, sweet Anne. I love you."

"I could never begin to tell you how many times I have heard those words leave your lips," Anne pulled back from the kiss to caress his face.

"Don't fight me."

"I'm not."

"Then let me make love to you," Henry pressed his forehead to hers and brought her against the wall, their limbs tangled in their hastened movements.

"But you've only just returned..." Anne moaned when his hands found their way to her breasts, loose and free of any corset restrictions, "What about the others outside the door?"

"Love knows no bounds," Henry whispered hotly, "And I want you right now. It has been a cruel eternity since I last saw you and I can't bear the wait any longer. Can you?"

Anne shook her head, despite the evident tentativeness in her eyes.

"We have done it before in the past...and you never cared then," Henry teased.

Anne sighed. Her resistance was eagerly wavering. She knew most well that she wanted him terribly much. Too many months had gone by since she last felt his touch, his taste, his body. In this moment, all she could think of was Henry, the man she loved, the man she wanted, the man she _**needed**_. She wanted his hands everywhere, his lips everywhere. As if he were reading her mind, his lips were soon upon hers, kissing her intensely, their tongues touching and clashing and battling as Henry's nimble fingers rashly unlaced the front of her nightgown. This feeling, her lips upon his, her hot breathing and sweet moaning that sent him into a delirious state was the feeling that he longed for. He was _hungry_ for her.

When he was done unlacing the dress, he swiftly slid the nightgown off of her shoulders, leaving her bare before him. Desire pooled heavily between her legs when she recognised the hunger for her in his eyes. It was a look that made her cravings seemingly insatiable. She gasped when she felt his hardness pressing through the fabric of his pants against her.

"You are still dressed," Anne impishly pouted and tugged at his pants.

Henry only grinned as he slipped his tongue in and out of her mouth before their lips joined in a kiss. Breathlessly, he ripped his shirt off and soon his boots and pants followed. At last, their bodies made direct contact. Oh, how he missed the way her soft form felt against his firm one.

"You are more beautiful now than you have ever been," Henry whispered into her ear, running his warm hands through her dark locks and down the curves of her hips, "Please tell me how can one be so breathtakingly beautiful."

"She must be loved," Anne answered, groaning when she felt him nip at her neck, "By a man like no other._"_

Her fingers interlocked with his hair as their lips touched and she could feel her world topple over as he laid her on the cold ground without warning. She grinned, knowing that he never took her on the ground before.

Distracting her with the graces of his tongue, his hands parted her legs to lie atop her and his lips were soon upon her chest, his tongue lapping at her glorious breasts. His tongue traced the curve of her left breast before taking it whole in his mouth as his other hand played with her right breast, teasingly, torturously. _Slowly_, the way he knew would drive her mad with want. Anne opened her eyes to catch him looking up at her, his ice-blue eyes filled with darkness and lust. She raised her hips, demanding him to move down.

"You are so eager, so lustful," Henry teased, "Be patient."

"I have no patience," Anne said, the look in her deep blue eyes just as dark with lust, "Not after months of waiting."

Henry gave a throaty chuckle and sat back on his knees, letting Anne catch a glimpse of his cock, erect and hard. She whimpered, knowing just how much she wanted him inside of her, thrusting into her until she was no more.

"I want you, Henry."

Henry parted her legs as his teasing kisses trailed down her stomach, his lips hovering over every inch of skin. He continued to kiss slowly, enticed by Anne's ragged breathing. He could feel her fire, burning irresistibly. She was drenched with yearning. Henry could see this as his lips started on her inner thigh, licking down to her heat where Anne called his name in satisfaction and he began to glide his tongue across the surface, taking hold of her thighs as he began to flick over her nub, squeezing her breast tightly as his tongue pleasured her.

Anne immediately forgot about the pain on her back inflicted by the hard surface of the wooden ground and shut her eyes, moaning to the rhythm of his tongue. Her hips danced like waves as his tongue repeatedly flicked and he used this rapid pattern until her thighs began to convulse as the pleasure pulsed through her body and she was confident that her climax was readily approaching.

Henry glanced upwards, catching a fair glimpse of his beloved Anne's face and recognised her expression. Words could never epitomise how he felt about her. How he loved her so. How he loved that she was a vigorous lover, impatient and direct as always. That is why he took joy in teasing her. He could feel her want in every movement he made.

"Not yet, Anne," he whispered, sitting up. He chuckled when she returned his comment with a frustrated expression on her face, "Be patient," he teased.

She despised it when he teased her. He knew her weaknesses, every last one of them. Not after all of these months would she be patient. If he did not take her now, she would take_ him_. She would have her way, one way or another.

Anne sat up and swiftly locked her ankles around his waist. She silenced Henry's words by covering his mouth with hers, moaning as their kiss had become a battle for dominance. Her lips closed around his bottom lip and she nipped at it before running across the bite mark with her tongue. Her hands rushing to his hair where she held on. She had only then just noticed that his hair had grown a bit longer. She dipped her tongue into his mouth while her hands tilted his head so she could deepen the kiss.

Henry pulled back, his eyes darkening, "Eager?"

"Desperate," Anne breathlessly resumed the sensual kiss as she began to ride him bare, not bothering to put him inside of her. She threw her head back, gasping and groaning at the pleasure.

It was now Henry's turn to become impatient as she rubbed her wetness against his cock, moaning freely into his ear. He began to suck at her neck to silence himself. He put his hands on her waist, trying to lift her so he could push himself inside of her, but Anne had been quick to push him down to the ground and hold his arms above his head with both hands.

"Did your Majesty take pleasure in my insistence by teasing me?" she whispered, giving him a coy look.

"Undeniably," Henry answered, not bothering to struggle with her. He would let her have her way.

Anne continued to playfully rub herself on him until she would wait no longer bear it and raised her hips, granting Henry access inside of her.

Her hips bucked back and forth and she freed his hands from her grasp as she threw her head back, her dark brunette cascade falling around her. She felt his hands gripping her arse and drawing upwards to grope her breasts. She felt him squeezing them, tweaking her nipples, and soon his lips were upon them, encouraging her hips to move faster. Anne's breathing grew intense and she pushed Henry back to the ground, her lips clashing with his as she did so.

_I need this_, she thought, as if she were still convincing herself, _I need him_. _I can't live without him_. She had been so angry. She felt betrayed and hurt and sad. But now, all that she could think of was him, inside of her, filling her with absolute pleasure. Her hands moved to his back and she dug her nails into his shoulders.

"Oh goodness," Anne whimpered, muffling her cries into his shoulder.

"Anne," Henry panted, "Faster."

His hips began to buck upwards as Anne came down harder and she moaned louder.

* * *

XXX

* * *

Every single noise that came from the Marquess' bedroom caused Lady Bridget's cheeks to fluster.

"Oh dear," she gasped softly when she heard the Marquess cry out.

"You will get used to it," Nan said, obviously not bothered by the noise.

"Does His Majesty and the Marquess always sound like that?" she asked, her naivety getting the best of her.

"Oh yes. Be glad you did not service the Marquess when she was Queen. Such nights were more likely and livelier than this."

"I do not understand..." Lady Bridget looked down, "How does one experience such..."

"Pleasure?" Nan finished her thoughts for her, "His Majesty has made an impeccable reputation for himself in terms of pleasing women. In his younger days, every woman at court was pining to have a roust in his bedchambers, even in front of the Queen. But when Anne had been introduced to His Majesty, all that changed, and soon the women were jealous of the Marquess. After all, he no longer gave notice to their advances. Only Anne's."

"He still has a great passion for her," Lady Bridget said, "Oh mon Dieu!" she gasped again when she heard the King shout unmentionable things, "It is a shameful passion, oui ou non?"

"Oh, very shameful," Nan nodded, choosing her words most carefully, "But I trust the Marquess as she is my dear friend. I trust that she never makes decisions without assuring that she will not hurt herself. She is in love with His Majesty and he, her. You cannot argue with the love that they share, can you? You saw the way he stood at her side when we all thought her to be dead. That is true love. His Majesty will never hurt her again."

"Oui, mais...but is is the Marquess hurting herself by performing as His Majesty's Maitresse En Titre?"

Nan's eyes widened in shock, "Wherever did you hear that the Marquess is the King's Maitresse En Titre?!"

"Ah, it is idle gossip, Nanette," Lady Bridget blushed again when she heard the Marquess, "Or have you not heard?"

Nan sat back, staring strangely at Lady Bridget. She squinted her eyes at the young lady, as if she were examining a new specimen.

"What is it?"

"Oh, it is nothing, Lady Bridget. It is just...gossip seems to have escaped the House of Pembroke, don't you think?"

"Whatever do you mean?" Lady Bridget asked.

"There is talk of His Majesty and the Marquess' relationship circulating England. It is...idle gossip. Or have you not heard?" she raised an eyebrow towards Lady Bridget.

The French girl cast her eyes towards the ground, her face darkening when she realised the words she spoke, "Nanette, I would never-"

"I trust you wouldn't," Nan interjected, "For I know that the Marquess' rage is something to fear, as is the King's," Nan stepped in front of Lady Bridget, leaning in to whisper in her ear, "But know that my wrath would come with extremities as well. For the Marquess is my dearest friend and any hurt that is brought upon her will also be brought upon the inflictor. Comprenez?"

Shivering with fear, Lady Bridget nodded hastily, "Oui. Je comprenez."

* * *

XXX

* * *

"Henry," Anne cried into his ear, "I'm going to c-"

He muffled her voice by bringing her lips to his, and she unleashed her final cry into his mouth, gripping his hair tight and releasing. But her hips continued to buck until Henry came and he flipped her over just as he did and pounded into her like a madman, coming inside her. He grunted with every jerk as his hot seed filled her up.

He then pulled out and rolled across from her.

For moments, the two breathed heavily, refusing to utter a single word until they caught their breaths.

"Christ, Anne," Henry had been the first to speak, "You make quite a lover." Of all the women he had been with, she had been the only one that gave him what he wanted. She knew how to express her needs, how to please herself while pleasing him. She was skillful and she had learned his preferences thoroughly. That is what made her such an outstanding lover. Her ability to give and take simultaneously. She made him fall in lust and in love with her at the same time, something he thought was impossible to feel. Yet there was always something more about her. Something about her lure that made her so much more captivating, so much more beautiful. He still could not piece it together.

"You say it as if we have never been together before," Anne said, smiling to show that she appreciated his compliment.

"Every time that we make love renders me in absolute awe," Henry moved closer to kiss her lips but Anne pulled back.

"Not so easily," she said, confusing him, "I got what I wanted... But I still need an answer."

"Anne..."

"What, Henry, is it not in my right to ask?"

"Oh, Anne," Henry shook his head, "Do not fight with me, I do not wish to fight, certainly not after we made love."

"I am not fighting, I only act out of inquiry," Anne stated, getting up and walking towards her closet where she found a robe to put on. obscuring her naked glory from Henry, much to his disappointment.

Henry himself stood up and began to redress himself. After he tied the strings to his pants, he slid his boots on to his legs and strapped his sword onto his belt. He sighed, looking to Anne, who stood by the bed. Her hair was in it's natural state, loose, untamed, and falling around her like dark draperies. She had been wearing it out the way he loved it. But her face harboured an image of contempt and he sensed it was towards him. He walked over to her, bringing his hand out and stroking her soft hair.

"My sweet Anne," he whispered, "Tell me. What must I do to abate your anger towards me? Would an apology do"

"An apology would change nothing, Henry!" Anne spoke through gritted teeth as tears began to glimmer in her blue eyes, "Why have you taken so long to return?" she demanded, "In all those months, you could not offer a single visit? Not even for your first son, or rather, for your precious _daughter_?!"

"Anne, you must understand," Henry grasped her arms, "I did not do so out of spite! Much has happened at Greenwich Palace, and I had to wait until it was safe to see you again."

"That is unheard of for you, Henry," Anne broke from his grasp, "I remember a time when nothing could possibly stop you from having me within arm's reach. I remember a time when your conviction was so strong that when very the Pope of Rome threatened to break ties with England and abandon you if you chose to keep me, you chose me regardless. So what could possibly have kept you away for so long?"

"…The rumours, Anne."

"That is utter rubbish, Henry!" she did not believe a single word he said. As if after all of these goddamn years of knowing him, did he really think that she would not be able to tell if he were lying or telling the truth? Her eyebrows furrowed with disappointment, "There were rumours in the past about our relationship when you were still married to Katherine and that never served as any hindrance. There were rumours about your mistresses when you and I were married and that certainly did not stop you from flaunting them about at court. There are rumours now and you are married once more to Jane, but you are reacting oddly towards them. If I am to understand, I need some truth. So I _beseech_ your Majesty to elaborate why can't you tell me what happened at Greenwich Palace?"

Henry shut his eyes and and began to ferociously rub the skin just above his eyebrow where he suddenly began to feel an irritating headache brewing.

Anne frowned. Months passed since they last spoke. She spent so many nights alone and strangely afraid since the birth of the twins and he had not been there to comfort her the way he once did. She had anticipated his return like a madwoman. And when he did come back, he gave no warning. Of course they made love, they needed each other. And the love making was every way that she wanted it to be. In spite of this, she could not fight against her frustration with his communication, or lack thereof.

"Damn it, Henry. Your last words to me were to trust you. You told me that you had done something very dangerous and that I was to trust you," Anne spoke after moments of treacherous silence, "Why did you ask that of me? Why am I to trust you, Henry? If you are to tell me anything, please tell me that one thing." Of all the possible things that he could have owed her, it was the truth. That was all that she wanted. Why in the bloody hell was he avoiding the most prominent question she was asking?

_You can't tell her now. You must give it time._

"Have you heard any talk regarding the Lady Mary?" Henry decided to inform her of his entrapment at Greenwich and the reason why. He motioned for her to sit down in the chair near the door.

"Of course not," Anne found it nonsensical that he would even ask her that, "You know very well that I have no association with the Lady Mary. We have always held each other at...odd ends."

"The Lady Mary has fled England and I believe her to be hiding amongst the Spanish Emperor's realms."

"Her uncle?" Anne frowned, "Was the Emperor not once betrothed to her?"

"Indeed he was. And he has made it most clear that he finds my daughter unsuitable for his marital standards, whatever those may be, and has audaciously insulted me since he decided to wed another woman," Henry felt himself grow dark with resentment when he thought of Charles the Emporer.

"What leads you to believe that the Lady Mary has fled?"

"I received a letter from her housekeeper in which I was informed that the Lady Mary had run away from her home. She ceased to inform anyone that she was leaving, she just disappeared."

"The last location that I was informed of concerning the Lady Mary was at Hatfield House with Elizabeth," Anne frowned with utter disbelief.

"Well, yes," Henry nodded, "But after our divorce, I relocated her to a different home where she would train to become a governess."

"I do not understand how that appertains to the Lady Mary hiding in Spain. England still loves Katherine, Henry. It would not surprise me that a powerful lord or even a church could have taken her daughter into hiding," Anne spoke her mind, "If you are threatening to attack Spain, I am sure that Charles would have released the Lady Mary promptly upon hearing this."

"I was informed by one of my investigators that the Lady Mary has been exchanging letters with the Emperor as her letters had been engraved with a royal seal," Henry said, "What other monarch would dare attempt contact with my daughter other than her own uncle?"

Anne thought about it for a moment, "There are so many loose ends to this theory, Henry. If the Lady Mary is in Spain, she will have arrived by sea. And if I am not mistaken, the only seaport that allows for overseas travel is heavily guarded under your Majesty's men. Who would be daring enough to smuggle your daughter out of the country without a royal commission? It would be impossible unless your men have been corrupted."

"Yes, of course, you are right, Anne," Henry nodded in agreement. He then gave her a wide grin.

"What is it?"

"I think it to have been a long time since we last spoke of things of this nature. Much like when we were married and you were Queen. You had always presented such good reasoning appertaining to my dilemmas," Henry stroked her cheek.

Anne looked down and sighed into his caress, kissing his hand, "...you did not entirely answer my question."

"You must wait for the other half," Henry said, sternly, "But Anne...you should know that Jane is with-child once more."

He had hoped that saying so would not fuel her anger. But that was ridiculous.

"You must certainly be delighted," Anne smiled stiffly, though her eyes showed her true feelings, "I hope that Jane will give you the legitimate son you so hungrily treasure. I hope she blesses you with _many_ sons, Henry."

"Anne, you do not have to say words that you do not mean," Henry reached out to stroke her shoulder, "I know you hold contempt for her, but you must understand..."

"Yes, she is your wife, I know," Anne shied away from his touch, though she needed him to put his arms around her, "You told me that the last time, and I will respect your wishes and leave it to rest. Forgive my impudence."

"There is nothing to forgive," Henry spoke softly, sensing that her anger had begun to calm.

"Have you spoken with Elizabeth?" Anne asked, not sure why she had been hurt by the news of Jane's pregnancy. Of course, it had been because she was abhorred by the thought of Henry with another woman, but in reality, it was she herself that was in the wrong. She had no one to be upset with but herself. In the end, she would always be angry with herself for every last decision she made. Especially when it came to Henry. Choosing to love him still hurt her.

"Yes, I did. She was delighted to see me and I, her. And my son, my handsome son, he has grown so much since I last gazed upon him," Henry smiled, "He will reach his first year of life very soon."

"And Lizzie will reach her seventh year," Anne said, "They grow up at a striking rate. I hate to miss any moment of their lives. There is so much of Elizabeth's life that I have not been physically a part of, and I only hope not to repeat the path with Nicholas. It pains me to look upon him when you are not here."

"Why?"

"Because when I look into his eyes, I see you. And it hurts not to have your near, especially when I need you most. And I do need you, Henry."

Henry brought Anne into his arms and she wrapping her arms around his waist and buried her face into his chest, deeply sighing. It was then that she released a gentle sob and let the tears that she had been holding in for months fall from her eyes. Henry could feel his heart shatter at the sound of her tears and the guilt he feared that he would have began to eat away at him.

"I am sorry, Anne," he brought his hand to her chin kissed her forehead.

Anne looked up at him, her blue eyes evident with love and hurt, "I do not hate you, Henry. I love you."

"You are the queen of my heart, Anne," Henry kissed her lips, "And I love you, too."

END OF CHAPTER SIX

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**AUTHOR'S NOTE: I KNOW, I suck at writing sex scenes, okay? I feel like absolute shit, so I did my best with this one. Review PLEASE :D  
**


	7. A Letter From John Seymour

**_Dear good Queen Jane,_**

**_I trust with good faith that you have been faring well in spite of your agitated nerves. I have retrieved distressing news from my good spies who have been able to recover evidence after many painful and intricately planned weeks of strategic supervision. I would advise, my dear sister, that you should not take offense by which the news I am about to inform may cause you pain. You should take to heart the safety of the King's future Prince that lies within your womb as I deliver this very message. Three Mondays ago, or four, for the time it takes to distribute this letter to your location, His Majesty had been seen with a babe, perhaps a year of age. After close examination, it had been gathered that the babe is a male, and closely resembles His Majesty. He is said to possess the King's eyes, lips, and nose. Several spies confirmed this revelation. Further news includes that His Majesty also presented strong affection towards the babe, as he embraced and kissed and even laughed heartily with the child. It is plainly evident that His Majesty harbours an illegitimate son, a son that he loves. The only question that remains is who might be the mother of the babe? It is true, my surprise could never amount to yours, my sister. But you should have idle fear, for His Majesty's infidelities do not threaten your future Princes. An illegitimate child would not be allowed to be placed in the line of succession for the royal throne._**

**_Your brother, John Seymour_**


	8. Let The Games Begin

"Smile, Jane," Thomas leaned in to whisper in his sister's ear.

But she still held a grimace on her face, her hands resting on her round stomach.

"_Jane_," Thomas repeated, "Smile, sister. The King and the Princess are entering the room."

She had not heard his words until the fanfare burst in her ears and she came back to reality.

"Brother?"

"_Smile_."

Smile, of course. Smile. Was that all she ever was to do? Smile widely to mask her hurt? She was to smile when she was angry, she was to smile when she was afraid, and she was to smile even when she did not mean it in earnest. Innocence had been her facade, was it not? It is how she had always won in life. After all, you cannot fault an innocent girl if she knows no better. Even her brothers thought her to be naive. To some extent, she was, but in other ways, she may have exaggerated her inexperience. For instance, she had been keen on revenge since she was a small child.

As Jane remembered, there were many times when Edward and Thomas teased her for being the only girl when they were children and when they did, they had been relentless and ruthless with their jeering. Jane did what she had been taught to do. She would receive the insults with her head held high. But in private, she would take her brothers' dearest possessions and bury them in the garden where they would not be retrieved until many months later when they will have been forgotten and too ruined for treasure. She used private revenge to appease the fact that she could never publicly act on her feelings.

And today, on the day of Elizabeth's, the Princess of England's birthday, Jane held the darkest thoughts she never thought she would have.

She believed herself to be entitled to her anger. After all, she was Henry's wife, and as his wife, it was her duty to love him. And if she loved him, surely news of his infidelities would affect her. Somehow, she turned her anguish into outrage concerning the subject and she found it veritably impossible to put a grin on her face as she watched the King of England and his daughter walk through the pathway of daisies and other assortments of flowers.

He had returned from an unknown destination just days after she received the letter from Edward, concerning his findings of the King with a baby boy, surprisingly mirthful. Perhaps more mirthful than usual. When Jane had asked where he had been, he answered her very nonchalantly.

"I have been completing errands."

And she furthered inquired, "What sort of errands?"

He answered, "Errands of high importance, dear Jane. None that should worry you."

He went on to say that she was carrying his future prince and that she did not need to worry about him. And then he kissed her. Jane's anger grew humbled when she thought about the kiss. How firm yet soft his lips had been. And in those moments that he had taken to passionately kiss her, all thoughts of betrayal had been forgotten. At least up until he gave her news that would set her off.

He had invited the Marquess of Pembroke to celebrate Elizabeth's birthday at Hampton Court.

"Majesty," Jane had pleaded, "You must forgive me for my rash reaction, but why must the Marquess of Pembroke be invited to court? Has she not wronged you in the past? I thought you wanted nothing to do with her?"

"She is the mother of my daughter, whom I love very much," Henry had replied, growing annoyed with Jane's opposition, though he had not been surprised, "Would you not like to attend your own child's birthday celebration? Of course, you and I have not yet been blessed with children, so I should not expect you to understand that feeling, but the time will come."

"Yes, your Majesty, but you must know of my discomfort in the knowledge of the Marquess of Pembroke's presence," Jane dared to say, "I have heard talk of witchcraft and the Marquess' ability to hone it and I should not want our child to be cursed-"

"You are speaking utter nonsense, Jane!" Henry had suddenly yelled, "If you are so fearful of the Marquess of Pembroke's presence then I suggest you lay and rest in your bedchambers on the day of Elizabeth's birthday. How should you like that?"

"I should not want to miss my daughter's birthday," Jane spoke softly, her cheeks reddening.

"She is not your daughter," Henry said, "She is my daughter and she is Anne's daughter."

"I still think of her as a daughter. She is dear to me, Henry."

"Then cast aside your contempt for Elizabeth's mother and attend the celebration, as a true Queen of England would."

"But she is Anne Boleyn-"

"Do **not** say her name!" he ordered, "I do not care for your feelings about her. This is about my daughter, not about you or the Marquess or anyone else. The two most important things at the moment are that my daughter is happy and that you give birth to my future prince. Any other matters are of no concern to you. Especially the Marquess of Pembroke."

Those had been the last words that he spoke to her before he left again to an unknown destination. Of course, with the news that Henry had been hiding a son somewhere, she trusted he went to be with his bastard child. She hated to have the knowledge of these things burden her. And the fact that he had been comfortable with deceiving her without a single fleck of guilt in his eyes probably bothered her the most. How could he even mention having a son with her, as if he did not already have one? A shamefully illegitimate son that he certainly cared about enough to keep secret and consistently visit.

And Jane was right.

As she watched her husband walk down the aisle of flowers, nodding at his subjects who cheered gleefully, chanting "happy birthday, your Highness," to Elizabeth, who walked with a proud grin on her face, her hand tightly gripping Henry's, Jane's grimace had finally been shattered by a smile.

She could not hold her contempt in the presence of the Princess Elizabeth. She looked too sweet and she did not deserve to be glared upon with hatred. None of the blame should be cast upon the child. The only thing that could return her smile to a grimace was the Marquess of Pembroke and Jane dared not look her way. Her presence was sickening and it brought Jane much anxiety. Why she had been allowed to return to Henry's court was unanswerable and it further frustrated her that she could not even question her husband about it. He forbade she speak of her. As if he thought her to be of a certain importance to him.

When Anne had entered the room, there had been an initial silence and she immediately put up her guard, preparing herself for the usual slandering, snide badgering, and cold glares. However, she had been surprised by the affable reception. The men and women bowed before her as she passed by, some even taking her hand to kiss it before commenting how beautiful she looked. She received warm and genuine smiles from all. Not a single scowl was present on anyone's face. What stood out to Anne the most was that she had not recognised a single face from Henry's old court. She only just then came to the realisation that he had removed old members of his court and replaced them with an older, more mature lot of people. She trusted that he had done this for her comfort because he had known how she felt about coming back to court. She made several enemies in the past, mostly unintentionally, by use of her sharp tongue and quick wit. She promised to thank him when she could.

Jane had been at the end of the room, sitting left to Henry's throne yet she stared straight ahead as if she had not just been announced by the herald. Once more, Anne did not bow before her, and the people yet again took notice of this great disrespect that Anne had brazenly shown towards Her Majesty. Yet, not a single person dared to inquire why she had done so. Instead, they watched to see what the Queen of England would do. They expected her to demand the rightful respect she deserved from the Marquess but she did not. She kept her lips shut and childishly ignored Anne. Little did Jane know that her authority had been challenged not once, but twice by the Marquess and she had proven to be a weak Queen before her people. By not defending her Queenship before Anne, she made it most clear who had the _higher power_ in the room. It sent a message that would be carried throughout England after the party dispersed.

When Anne did walk near her, though, the two shared a single second of eye contact before she took her place at a table where her Ladies-in-Waiting joined her. For as much as she hated to be in her presence, she very much enjoyed silently manipulating her by whatever means. She had succeeded in stumbling Jane by use of a simple trick she taught herself from early age as a young girl in the French courts. When she looked into Jane's eyes, she could see the uneasiness in them. Her glare immediately broke when she glanced at her. That is how she had known that she was threatened by her. It was most amusing to Anne that Jane had been threatened by her. Poor Jane Seymour. To be a Queen of England, you must have vigour. And she certainly lacked the will to be vigourous. In that precious second, the two were in battle and Anne had won that battle.

Jane stood by her belief that the Marquess should not have been present. She hated Anne Boleyn and Henry should have hated her too but it was evident that he pardoned her for her sinful behaviour against him. Why he had done it, Jane was not sure. But if there was anything that she was certain of, it was this: if her husband could have secrets, so could she.

Henry held his daughter's hand, proudly walking through the aisle. This day could not have been any better than it was. His dear daughter was alive for yet another year, and his son was following closely behind his sister in his success.

Just one day before the Princess Elizabeth's birthday, Nicholas received his titles in a private ceremony held in the center hall in the House of Pembroke. As Henry saw fit, his son was given the titles Duke of Somerset and of Nottingham and his future lands were signed into contract and inheritance was to be effective immediately when he reached the proper age of seventeen. Anne and Henry had been the only two to witness the private ceremony, aside from the herald who read the scrolls for the young baby.

Since the crowns had been too heavy and the robes too large for Nicholas, Henry took to holding them himself and had them placed on a stand in his bedroom. His current residence would be the House of Pembroke until turned four years old where he would be placed in a separate household to be tutored properly.

Though Henry had hoped to have a grander ceremony for his firstborn son, he had known better. He still had not publicly recognised his child and no one beyond the House of Pembroke had even known about Nicholas. He had to time everything meticulously. He could not reveal everything all at once. That would do neither him nor Anne any good at all. And Nicholas would most certainly be treated the way Elizabeth had been- scorned as a bastard. It had probably been the reason why he still could not organise a proper betrothal for his daughter.

She reached the age of seven and there was yet another glorious celebration in honour of her birth. Henry doubted that he would find a prince to marry her to any time soon. In the future, though, things may change. Perhaps when she grows older and her features will have been more becoming, she will find a suitable husband. It will be effortless, as men would pine after her to take their hand in marriage. Then, every King and Emperor that turned down Henry's proposals would live to regret ever refusing the Princess Elizabeth. She would be the most beautiful Queen of England, as Anne had been. And she would be the most desired woman in all of England, as Anne had been.

Since Anne had been there, his day had felt complete. When he reached the end of the aisle, a new song began to play and that was when he saw her stationed modestly, yet boldly, at a table, not too far from Jane. No words could describe her beauty and Henry could only give a pleasant grin when their eyes had finally met.

Elizabeth and her mother were both adorned in lavender dresses and pearls. And their hair had been done in a very similar fashion. They were like twins, only one had dark brunette hair and the other had golden-red hair.

"It was Elizabeth's idea," Anne admitted, laughing when Henry reacted to their matching outfits, "We are like twins, yes?"

"Very much so!" Elizabeth laughed, hugging her mother.

She had asked her father to allow her mother to come, insisting that she simply could not celebrate her birthday without her mother there. Of course, she wanted Nicholas to be there, but Henry said he could not come because he had still been their "secret." Just as her parents' reunion had still been their "secret". Having so many secrets had been exhausting but if it meant she could be with her family, then so be it.

"Happy birthday, my darling," Anne said, kissing her daughter's cheek, "I have a gift for you."

"Oh please show me," Elizabeth jumped up and down, elatedly, "Please show me, Mama."

"Later, Elizabeth," Anne smiled, her eyes meeting with Henry's once more as they shared another intimate glance, "You must wait. Your father has prepared a stupendous party and you would not want to miss it, would you?"

"Of course not, Mama," Elizabeth shook her head, though she silently wondered what it was that her mother had gotten her.

"Sit down with the Queen, sweetheart," Henry whispered to his daughter, patting her back to send her along.

Anne smiled as she watched her daughter take her place on her own throne and she began to imagine her as Queen of England. Bold, radiant, and majestic as ever. _Queen Elizabeth of England_. How marvelous and refined that sounded. She would be a glorious Queen of England, one of the finest queens that Europe had ever seen. Her reign would be golden.

Amid her reverie, she suddenly felt Henry's lips pressed upon her cheek and she quickly stepped back, pushing him away from her, but not far, so as not to cause a commotion.

"What are you doing?" Anne asked, her voice low and her face twisted with confusion, "Have you gone mad? Your wife is watching us and so is the rest of your court."

"A kiss to the cheek is inoffensive, Anne," Henry lowered his voice to match her tone, "What should it mean to Jane, anyway. She is as clueless as a little girl, she detects nothing."

"She is a woman, Henry. She detects everything," she insisted.

"If that is so, then why is it that she cannot see that I am in love with you and I cannot escape?"

"She loves you and so she is blinded by that. She does not want to believe that you could love another."

"You are magnificent, Anne. You always have been," Henry chuckled, "Do not worry about Jane. Or anyone else here at court. They suspect nothing."

_They suspect everything_, Anne had wanted to say. But she did not. There had already been rumours of their liaisons blooming. Even this very level of intimacy was to be forbidden. It did not take much time for anyone to figure out that the King had found favour with the Marquess from a distance. And even the way he had been holding her was just enough evidence alone. Imagine if news of Nicholas and his being the king's son were to begin? What then would Henry do to protect them?

Anne wondered that if the King of England had been calm, why should she be so tense? Is it because she thinks of these things and he does not? Or is it because he is the King of England and he has absolute power. Everything that he says can be written in stone. But so much protest had been put up against Anne in the past when she had first fallen in love with the King.

Only times are different now. That was years ago, Katherine is long dead and Mary is long lost. Perhaps it was so that needed to relax and put her trust in Henry that everything was fine. For now.

"Forgive me," she whispered, her eyes meeting with the ground as she looked down. Henry placed his hand upon her chin and lifted her face to his.

"There is nothing to forgive," he whispered, one of his hands absently brushing against hers, "You look so beautiful, like a true queen and I wish you to enjoy this day. This is a celebration of life. A celebration of our daughter's life. Nothing, not even Jane should ruin this day." He then squeezed her hand gently, "The people surrounding us should cause you little stress. I have an entirely new court, have you noticed?"

"Yes, I have."

"I did that for you, Anne. I want you to be comfortable"

"And I am. Thank you very much, your Majesty," Anne smiled.

Henry took her hands in his and leaned in to whisper in her ear, "I wish to see you in private when the party has ended. I have prepared some rooms for you and your Ladies-in-Waiting here at Hampton Court. I should like for you to stay for a few days."

"But I cannot," Anne said, "I cannot because of our son. I must care for him," she had promised to be a part of his life for as long as she could.

"Anne, Nicholas has many nurses to care for him while you are not there. I have already informed them of their duties. You must trust me, Anne. They would never bring harm to our son," Henry grabbed her arm, the urgency in his eyes visible, "I have longed to have you by my side. I have missed you. Please."

His confidence had provoked her to give in. She smiled, "Yes, I shall stay."

"Good," Henry grinned darkly, "I wish to visit your chambers tonight. You will wait for me?"

"I will be waiting, Henry," Anne replied, her smile just as dark, "I trust you have interesting ways to indulge me tonight. You will not fail to please me?"

"Have I ever?" Henry whispered, his voice raspy with want.

Anne only flashed him a mysterious smile, ceasing to answer his question, "Do go about and talk with your guests. You should not want to offend them by talking with me for the entirety of the day."

"No, of course not," Henry winked before turning away from her.

In the next hour, the two took separate paths but from time to time, their eyes met and when they did, you could feel the passion between them. It was inescapable.

Jane had noticed this as she kept her distance from both Anne and Henry. She still sat on her throne, her hands running across her stomach as she watched the Marquess and her husband exchange such glances. Jealousy burned beneath her chest while she watched. Henry had not even bothered to look at her once. He spoke very idly to her before he went to speak to that Boleyn whore. He had only asked of her conditions and if she felt well enough to stay for the celebration and after Jane insisted that she did, Henry went about.

She motioned for her brother to come near her.

"What is it, sister?" Thomas asked.

"Brother," Jane pointed her finger into the crowd of people, "Look at how the King looks to the Marquess. Look at how intimate they are. He appears to be quite fond of her, does he not?"

"Sister, do not be nonsensical," Thomas began but Jane interrupted him.

"Edward told me the same thing, Thomas. I am not being nonsensical, in fact I feel as if I am the only one who is acting on pure logic and intuition. Do not pretend that Edward has not told you of the King's son. You know very well that there has been talk that the King has found favour with another woman. I have no doubt that this 'woman' that the King has found favour with is the mother of his child. In the letter, Edward expressed to me the boy's image. He is said to be the exact projection of the King, other than his dark hair, which I know to belong to the mother. Henry's bastard children never inherit his hair colour. I have heard Elizabeth mention moments ago that she wished someone by the name 'Nicholas' had been here but he was too young for travel and when I asked who she was referring to, she did not say. She refused to speak of it. She fled from me whilst I attempted to persuade her to tell me whoever this 'Nicholas' is."

"And what are you suspicious of, sister?"

"Nicholas must be the King's son. And if Elizabeth knows about it, then so must the Marquess. And if the Marquess has knowledge of the King's illegitimate son, there is no doubt in my mind that she is the mother. Look at how dark her hair is."

"Jane, Nicholas could be one of Elizabeth's new friends," Thomas explained.

"The Princess of England has no friends, Henry has made sure that she be kept in a strict household, albeit her recent visits to the House of Pembroke. I must act on impulse."

"No, your duty is to give the King a living male heir. You are to keep your wits about yourself and relax."

"You know my words to be true, brother."

"Jane..." Thomas sighed, knowing that the information he held was far too dangerous to tell to Jane. He could only imagine how she would object to the plan, "I will inform our brother and father. If this is so, we must act on our findings. However, I should ask for your permission to do whatever it is necessary to return the King to your favour."

"By what means, Thomas?" Jane asked.

"I mustn't tell you, sister. I have promised to keep it a secret. If I were to tell you, I fear you would be overcome with stress."

"Brother, it would do me worst pain if you did not tell me at all. I cannot bear the exclusion."

Thomas began to grow anxious by the moment. He ran a hand through his hair, "Sister,I cannot speak of it. Not amid the Princess' party."

"_Tell me_." Her voice lowered. She was tired of everyone's faulty attempts of using discretion when she was in their presence because she was with-child. She was pregnant, not maimed. It was time she used her power to her advantage. Gripping her brother's vest, she brought him down to her level, "I command you, Thomas."

He had no choice but to obey the Queen of England. He only prayed that she would not come into contradiction to the plan that had been set out in order to ensure that the Seymour family maintained a great amount of importance in the King's eyes. He sighed, preparing himself for any reaction possible, "Jane," Thomas leaned in to whisper in her ear, "Edward, father, and I have always had your best interests at heart, yes?"

Jane nodded rapidly.

"You know that we care for you more than anyone in the world, yes?"

Again, Jane nodded.

"And, you will trust us in everything that we do in order to protect your position as Queen of England?"

"Of course, brother. Now tell me," Jane grew impatient.

"...Suppose something were to happen to the Princess Elizabeth?"

"Such as what?"

"...an...accident..."

END OF CHAPTER EIGHT

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**AUTHOR'S NOTE: DUN DUN DUNNNNNNNNN****...review please...dundundundundudnudnddnudndunnnnnnnnnnnnnn nn  
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	9. Dreams and Nightmares, Love and Lust

After many excessive hours after the celebration, Henry finally began to make his way for the chambers where he knew Anne would be.

He knew he had gotten much too carried away during the celebration, for Elizabeth had already gone off to bed, and so did her Ladies-in-Waiting. Much of the party had dispersed and soon it was only Henry, his groomsmen, and some of his personal favourite delegates left. Just when he had realised the party had long since ended, he began to head off when a messenger stormed through the dining hall and fell to his knees, begging forgiveness from Henry.

He must have been a young boy of fifteen years, for his voice, though masculine, was still young.

The guards surrounding the room immediately seized him, threatening him with a death penalty for having snuck into the threshold of Hampton Court without an invitation but the boy shouted his reason for coming.

"I have a message from the Duke of Suffolk, your Majesty!"

Henry's face quickly changed with recognition.

He did not receive word from Charles since he forced him to travel to Spain to find his daughter. Of course, he missed Charles. He was his best friend, his only friend. But what he said about Anne was entirely unforgivable, and for that, Henry was still disputing whether he should receive the message or not. Charles was haughty in his comments, yes, but he was imperfect for he knew not of the passion he and Anne still shared. Even so, Charles knew not to speak to Henry unless he found word of Mary.

Henry walked over to the boy, signalling his guards to ease themselves.

The boy's eyes quickly fell to the ground and he was again on his knees, begging forgiveness from Henry.

"Why do you beg forgiveness?" Henry asked, the calmness in his voice unprecedented.

"B-because, your Majesty," the boy stuttered, not hesitating to mask his fear, "The Duke of Suffolk warned me that if I did not beg forgiveness for the deliverance of this message, you would have my head cut off with your own sword."

"You do not wish to die?" Henry humourously asked, motioning for the boy to stand.

"No, your Majesty. I fear death," the boy's honesty was refreshing to Henry.

"Have you led a dishonest life?"

"No."

"Then what is to fear?"

"You, your Majesty," the boy answered, impressing Henry with both his honesty and cleverness.

"Relay this message from the Duke of Suffolk," Henry commanded.

The boy nodded, taking out a sheet of parchment and reading, though his hands were shaking, "Dearest Majesty. I write to you with utter humility. It has been much time since I last graced myself with your presence, Majesty, and I should want to seek the light of my King because there is no light here in Spain. Your punishment has been given and I now beg for forgiveness and for return to court, your Majesty. We can be, as you once said many times in our youth, as brothers, once more. I have spoken personally with the Emperor and relayed to him vehement in passion, your anger and conviction that he harbours the Lady Mary within his palace walls. The Emperor denies your Majesty's conviction and has gone about slandering you so heinously, I could not repeat it. With this information, I justify that I have done all that is possible to be done in finding the Lady Mary. I have come close to the belief that her existence is-"

"_Stop," _Henry muttered, "I will hear no more of this!" he snatched the letter from the trembling boy's hands and ripped it apart, throwing it into the nearby fire.

"F-forgive me, Majesty," the boy mumbled.

"Indeed, you have done well to beg my forgiveness for you have made me angry!" Henry said, resisting the tempting urge to throw things about and scream, "You had best leave before my words result in actions. And when you return to your master, the Duke of Suffolk, tell him that I said he will not be allowed near a British ship until he brings back the Lady Mary."

The guards immediately took the boy and dragged him from the room, understanding what Henry meant when he said those words. His wrath was to be feared for many good reasons.

Henry clenched his fist and rubbed the area above his brow where a headache began to form. He sighed with defeat, and turned around, returning to his original destination: Anne's bedchambers.

He did his best to remove his dilemmas from his mind. First he lost Mary, now he was losing Charles. And he could not bring himself to forgive him. Not yet. The corridor to Anne's bedchamber had been dimly lit, so his guards followed him close, silently yet protectively.

When he had arrived, he found one of Anne's Ladies-in-Waiting, a Lady Bridget, standing outside of the door, on the verge of dosing off. She stood straight and bowed when Henry approached her.

"Majeste," she said, "The Marquess has taken to rest, for she waited two hours for you to come. She says that her chambers are still open to you but not to expect her to be roused, for she will be asleep."

Henry acknowledged Lady Bridget excused her from her duties. The girl went away and the guards immediately took their place outside the door.

When he entered, he found Anne beneath the covers, deep in sleep.

All the bitterness and anger and poison in his heart mellowed out when he saw her, and he gave a genuine smile of love as he watched her. She was his. And his alone. And he loved her madly.

She drove him mad.

**_You are so very beautiful_**, he wanted to say, but he kept his mouth shut. He had not realised that he was holding his breath until she turned beneath the covers and he finally exhaled.

He continued to take in her pleasant image, becoming lost in the rapture of her lure. He believed himself to be a man of tremendous fortune to have a woman like her love a man like him. And he soon thought of her time as his wife, his Queen. Not only had she ruled England, she ruled his heart. All that dark hair, falling around her lasily. That glowing skin of an angel. Those lips and those eyes, those deep blue eyes. How could he not love her?

Regret pulsed through him as he stared, hating that he wasted all that time when he could have been making love to her.

He considered waking her but he quickly gathered that it would have been foolish to do so. He had known how much Anne loved to rest and there were several times in the past when he woke her amid her sleep and he had to face her wrath. It was not worth the trouble.

She surely had a long and exhausting day. She deserved her sleep.

It was his fault and his fault alone that he arrived late. He knew the moment Anne woke, she would chastise him for his tardiness. Given that tomorrow would be both hectic and unforgiveable, he had best get some rest as well.

Sighing as he met with his conclusion, Henry undressed himself, ridding him of all his garments except for his shorts. Not bothering to place his clothes anywhere but on the ground, he climbed beneath the covers and joined Anne. He drew his arm around her waist, pulling her back to his chest and planting a soft kiss on her cheek.

Suddenly, she started quivering as if she were afraid. Henry waited to see if she would stop, but she did not.

"Anne?" he called, sitting up to get a better view of her, "Sweetheart?"

He touched her shoulder with concern and she violently reacted, holding on to him tightly. Her nails cut into his skin.

"No!" she yelped, "Please, do not hurt me."

"I'm not hurting you, Anne!" Henry shouted, confused.

Henry's heart began to race and he pulled Anne over and he could see she was still asleep.

"Don't hurt me!"

"I am not hurting you!" he shouted again, but then he realised she was not talking to him.

Though her eyes were still closed, her face was contorted with pain as if she were suffering. And there was fright, terrible fright.

"Papa, stop it, Papa."

She was having a nightmare. She was helpless and trapped within her nightmare, and it hurt his heart to know this.

"Wake up, Anne," Henry grasped her shoulders and shook her until she gasped out of her sleep, sitting straight up.

Anne panted, clasping her chest as she fought to reclaim her reality. Her cheeks became wet with tears.

"Sweetheart," Henry found partial relief with her wake, but he was still worried. She looked so frightened. The last time he saw that look in her eyes was that night he came to Harrison House to see after a year of abandoning her. And even that was painful to bear. She said 'Papa'. Twice. He resolved that she had been hurt by her father. And for that, she was afraid. All Henry could feel was heartbreak for Anne and vicious anger towards her father.

"Tell me, Anne. Did he hurt you?" Henry asked, "Did your father hurt you?"

"I do not wish to discuss it," Anne shook her head, daring not to remember how he damned her.

"He hurt you, Anne. I heard you calling his name," Henry pressed, "You were a nightmare about him. Tell me why."

"It does not matter, Henry," Anne continued to deny him, "Certainly not to you."

There was cold and bitterness in her voice.

"What are you implying, Anne? That I do not care?" he was taken aback by her sudden mood shift.

"It does not matter that my father hurt me, Henry!" she grew frustrated with him.

"Why did you not tell me when he did so?"

"Because, why should it matter to you when you were the one hurting me, too?" Anne said, another tear rolling down her cheek, "Fear had done its best to me when we were married. I was fearful of losing your love and once I did that, I was fearful of losing my life. I had hoped to give you a son but every pregnancy became a miscarriage or stillborn. If you did not care about me losing your children, how could you care that my father hurt me?"

"Anne, I was foolish, I have told you this before. And for that I am sorry. But I am a new man. I care now more than I ever have and ever will. You know the depth of my love for you. I think it to be immeasurable. I will find your father and I will bring him to death for what he has done to you."

"No, Henry," Anne pressed her hand to his chest, shaking her head, "My love, I do not wish death upon him or anyone."

"He shall be punished for what he has done, Anne." Henry could not understand why she would have sympathy for a man that haunts her in her sleep.

"It would not please me to have my own flesh and blood murdered out of vengeance. My father's fate is not up to me, and you know that. I should not want to have blood on my hands and on your hands as well," Anne sighed, "...I was more afraid of my father hating me and casting me off than I was of him hurting me. I feel that he hated me more than he hated me. I was useful to him in other ways, but never was I truly loved like a daughter by him. If I disappointed him, he punished me. Even," Anne shut her eyes, "_Even when I was pregnant_."

Henry's heart sank.

He could not find words.

Only guilt.

"Do you have nightmares often?" he asked her softly.

"Only when you are not with me," she answered.

"But I _was_ with you."

"Not when I first fell asleep. Next time, you will be sure to come to me on time?" Anne said, giving him a smile for the first time since she woke.

"Of course, my love," Henry grinned, her smile bringing warmth to his heart, "I presume you wish to rest again?"

"I often face difficulty in doing so when I have nightmares. It is a curse, no doubt, but now-"

Henry silenced her as he pressed his lips to hers without warning, caressing her cheeks with both hands and kissing her deeply. He did his best to put all of his love and passion for her into that kiss, pressing her into the sheets and climbing above her.

Anne moaned, surprised by Henry's sudden arousal but the passion soon grew hot and she found herself clutching him tightly, her tongue deep inside his mouth while her legs locked around him, releasing a moan into his mouth.

"Don't leave," she panted into his ear, "Do not ever leave."

"I won't, Anne. I promise."

He buried his face into her neck and sighed contentedly.

"Let me make love to you," he spoke, though his actions began before his words, "This way I can help you sleep."

"The room is dimly lit. Can you see?" Anne asked.

"I could be blind and I would still know how to please you. Where to touch you," Henry slid her nightgown down her shoulders, down her legs, and off her feet, tossing it carelessly behind him. Anne's fingers trailed through his hair as his lips met. They moaned simultaneously as their tongues touched.

Henry's hands found their way to her hips, and he found himself gripping them as if it were his life slipping away from him. He cupped her arse and squeezed the cheeks, raking his fingers down them, making Anne shudder. He professed his love to her repeatedly and slurred, like a mad drunk, devouring her lips and tangling his fingers with her cascade.

Anne grew unbearably hungry with want and impatient as always.

She tried to convey to him what she wanted but he continued to kiss her, palming her breasts with his hand while he began to make love to her neck, making sucking sounds. "Oh goodness, Henry please….inside of me…." She struggled to find coherent words while he took advantage of her weakness, her neck.

Henry planted one last kiss on her neck before he grasped himself. He stared deep into her eyes, silently telling her what she meant to him as he entered her.

He pumped into her at a fast pace, commencing with a speedy pace, not bothering to initiate slowly. A satisfied sigh spilled from his throat as her hips countered his thrusts. He hoisted her legs around his waist, entangling his limbs with hers.

He felt her hands clutching his back, quivering with pleasure whilst he pumped into her.

"H-Henry," Anne's voice was weak and she gave up trying to speak. She shut her eyes and buried her face into his shoulder where she could hear his heartbeat, racing, matching the pace of his thrusts. Her eyes rolled into her head as the pleasure encompassed her. The pain, she had forgotten. The nightmare, she had forgotten.

All that remained was the pleasure. And the love.

Henry felt the absolution and completion of lust and love and he thought it possible that he might actually asphyxiate from the sound of her cries, unbridled and unabashed. He deepened this thrusts, hastened them, and roughened them, sensing that Anne would soon be begging him to move faster. Her cries doubled in passion.

"Close, Henry..." Anne's voice was hoarse with desperation, "I am close."

"Say no more," Henry commanded, reaching between them to rub her. He thought of only her, pleasing her, bringing her the bliss he once robbed her of. If he could, he would spend an eternity doing this. Between Anne's legs, bound by her adamant passion and inescapable love, drowning in a pool of lust as he tasted her lips and then her heat. He could caress both her breasts and cheeks and stare into her eyes as he made love to her forever. He could not ask for better. It was as if this was all there was to the world.

_Fuck_

He slammed into her like a madman, her final cries of pleasure being released into the night. He came moments later, and his muscles tightened and released as his seed burst and spilled into her. Their eyes met and their gaze connected as it happened, and Henry was no longer sure what way she had been holding him captive. Internally or externally?

All that he had known is how much he loved her. As he rolled off of her, he gazed at her adoringly, absorbing her entrancing features. He watched her breathing slow to its usual pace and her eyes soon closed. When she rolled over into his chest, he knew she had been fast asleep.

Smiling with pride and accomplishment, Henry whispered gingerly, "She is satisfied."

He found rest moments later.

END OF CHAPTER NINE

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: My apologies for the crappy-as-usual sex scene. Also, it was abnormally short. But I wanted the love-making to be simple, not complex. I just have a question for you lovely readers. Is Anne and Henry's relationship in this fanfiction believable? Also, review! Next chapter coming soonnnn**


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